


Café Zero

by yukiawison



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/F, F/M, Gen, Hargreeves Family Emotional Issues, I'm pretending season 2 didn't happen and they stopped the apocalypse at the end of season 1, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Klaus Hargreeves-centric, M/M, Number Five | The Boy Needs A Hug, Self-Esteem Issues, Sober Klaus Hargreeves, The gang runs a coffee shop together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:09:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 34,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27442456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yukiawison/pseuds/yukiawison
Summary: (AU where the Hargreeves' don't go to the 60s, save the world at the end of season 1, and open a coffee shop.)Klaus sipped exaggeratedly at the frappe Vanya had selected for him. “I think between the seven of us, we know enough about coffee and business,” he said. Vanya smiled at him encouragingly and he winked at her.“Care to weigh in on what you know, Klaus? Last time you made me coffee it tasted like battery acid,” Five said.“I didn’t know you drank battery acid, my dear brother. Remind me again, what’s the difference between you and a radioactive raccoon?” Klaus said. Five scowled at him and checked his watch.“I had a Keurig on the moon,” Luther said, unhelpfully.
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves/Jill, Klaus Hargreeves/David "Dave" Katz, Number Five | The Boy & Klaus Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy & Original Character(s), Sissy Cooper/Vanya Hargreeves
Comments: 51
Kudos: 216





	1. Introductions

Once the world was saved, they couldn’t really go back to the way things were. Luther kept insisting that they were a real team now, better than the painful, fragmented thing Dad had created. And real teams had projects. Klaus was sure Luther hadn’t had in mind what Vanya proposed, but Klaus liked it. 

“A coffee shop?” Five said. He took a sip of the overpriced cappuccino Vanya had bought him to help make her point. She’d assembled everyone for a family meeting at the Academy. Their childhood home looked a little different now. The rebuild had excluded some of the more superfluous rooms and lightened up some of Dad’s decor. 

“There’s a building on sale down the street. It’s a lovely little place,” Vanya said. “And since we’re all in town again I thought—“

“We’d be the Brady Bunch with a small business?” Diego said. “Do you even know anything about coffee?”

Klaus sipped exaggeratedly at the frappe Vanya had selected for him. “I think between the seven of us, we know enough about coffee and business,” he said. Vanya smiled at him encouragingly and he winked at her. 

“Care to weigh in on what you know, Klaus? Last time you made me coffee it tasted like battery acid,” Five said. 

“I didn’t know you drank battery acid, my dear brother. Remind me again, what’s the difference between you and a radioactive raccoon?” Klaus said. Five scowled at him and checked his watch. 

“I had a Keurig on the moon,” Luther said, unhelpfully. 

“So we’d buy it together, and run it as a family?” Allison said. Vanya had gotten her an iced hazelnut latte. 

“I’ve done some menu planning. I figure we could sell pastries too, and have a small selection of teas. The space is big enough for events too so we could have little concerts or workshops if we wanted. I’m looking into suppliers and the permits we’d need I just...“ Vanya shook her head. “After everything that happened I just want to feel like I’m doing something good for a change. And I don’t know, this felt like something that could be good for all of us.” 

Klaus got up. “Well, I’m in,” he said. “Ben?” Beside him, Ben shrugged, then nodded. “Ben is in too,” Klaus said. 

Vanya grinned, and though Klaus knew she’d known he’d be the easiest yes he still felt a surge of pride. 

“I would do all the hard stuff. I’ve been taking barista classes and working on recipes. I could show you all what to do and you’d only have to be there as much as you wanted to.” 

“Of course I’ll help,” Allison said. “It’s about time we had something together that was functional.”

“Sure,” Luther said. “I don’t have anything better to do.”

“A vote of confidence if I ever heard one,” Five said. “But fine, I guess I can be there if you need me.” 

Klaus had a feeling the offer meant a bit more than that. Five had been a little lost since the apocalypse was no longer a threat. He’d been moping around the Academy, pretending he wasn’t moping. Klaus couldn’t really blame him. He sort of felt the same way now that he was sober. There wasn’t a whole lot he could do with himself but keep busy and try not to relapse. 

Diego sighed. “Fine, fine okay I’ll do it for Team Zero.” 

“Then we’re unanimous?” Vanya said. 

“It’s a miracle,” Klaus said. “But I think we are.” 

Vanya, true to her word, did most of the hard work. Klaus And Ben went furniture shopping with her to get the café’s tables, chairs, and assorted decor. They wanted the place to be cozy and warm. Allison worked on marketing. Diego and Luther installed the cabinets. Five grumbled about the place and had to be banned from the espresso machine. The café was already inspiring more teamwork than their father ever had. 

And so, after an aborted apocalypse, several months of planning, and a week of comically frustrating barista training, the Hargreeves siblings opened Café Zero. 

***

The shop had been open for six months and Klaus had been sober for almost five. It helped to have a routine, he found. It was hard to think about how badly he wanted to pop a few pills when he had a line of drinks to make. It was easier to stay away from the clubs when Vanya held concerts at the shop in the evenings or Five hosted poetry readings.

Oh, yes. That was a new development. It turned out that Five sans apocalypse and Commission wanted to go back to school, and, since he’d studied just about everything, he’d settled far out of his comfort zone with poetry. He studied at a table near the counter when he wasn’t working. They had a white board tallying the number of espresso shots he had each day so they could cut him off before he started vibrating. 

The café had become something of a second home to all of them. Vanya and Diego (of all people) came in early to do the baking. Luther stayed late to clean and stock up on supplies. Klaus and Five worked most of the shifts, accompanied by Vanya and Allison whenever her schedule allowed. Ben reported on any gossip he heard around the shop, and warned Klaus when something was about to spill or burn. 

Klaus quite liked being a barista. He got into a rhythm on good days. It felt almost like a dance when he got going, when Vanya was at the register and he was flitting about steaming milk, running the blender, steeping tea. He still savored breaks. On bad days, when his hands would shake and Ben would hover nearby all day to make sure he was okay, he took his break early.

It was a bad day. Five was finished studying for his exam and agreed to take Klaus’s place. The line was long. Klaus took a seat by the door and sipped a latte. His knee was bouncing up and down. Everything was a bit too loud, ghosts pulling at his attention. He felt bad leaving when he did, but Five had the advantage of his power during a rush, while Klaus had the disadvantage of his. 

He was just coming back to himself when he saw him. He hurried inside, out of the light drizzle that was rapidly turning into rain. He didn’t have an umbrella, and his blonde hair was damp. 

“Damn,” the beautiful mystery man said. Klaus’s eyes were already on him. “Is the line usually this long?” he said, turning to Klaus and shaking the water out of his hair. 

“I, um...yes. It usually is,” Klaus said. “You in a hurry?” 

The man shook his head. “I was just curious, really. The Umbrella Academy kids run the place.”

“Right,” Klaus said, smile blossoming on his face. Clearly, the man didn’t recognize him as member of said Umbrella Academy. “I never followed them much.”

“Me neither,” the man said. “Well I guess my friends and I did when we were younger. We watched Allison’s movies and read the magazines. They all had a crush on her.”

“But you didn’t?” Klaus said. 

The man flushed and Klaus felt a tingle run down his spine. “I always liked Number 4. Though I never kept up once the tabloids got ahold of them. I’d nearly forgot them when I saw an article about this place. Had to see for myself. I guess it’s the optimist in me.”

“The optimist?” Klaus said. He leaned forward on his elbows. Beside him he watched Ben sigh and roll his eyes. 

“Well, they had such a complicated childhood. It’s nice to see things turn out well for them.”

Klaus got up too quickly and extended a hand. “What’s your name?” He asked. 

The man was blushing again. “Sorry, I’ve just been going on haven’t I? You just looked like a regular and I...Dave, Dave Katz.”

“Klaus Hargreeves,” Klaus said. 

Dave’s eyes widened. “Oh! I’m sorry. I’m running my mouth and you’re—“

“Number 4, in the flesh,” Klaus grinned. The day was getting better already.

“Christ I wouldn’t have said all that if I’d known. I’m just going to stop talking now,” Dave said. 

“That was mean,” Ben said. 

“I should get back to work,” Klaus said. “But I’ll see you up there, Dave Katz.” He winked. 

“Don’t turn around, but he looks absolutely mortified,” Ben said. 

“Well, I feel better,” Klaus said. 

“I thought you didn’t want to date,” Ben said. 

“Who said anything about dating? It’s still nice when a cute guy says he likes you,” Klaus said. No one had told him they liked him in a long time, even in a passing way like Dave had. When he had dated—if you could call it that, mostly it was sex for drugs or a place to stay—people didn’t usually admit to having a crush on him. Attraction was begrudging or desperate, like he was just a body. And before he got sober he had been just a body, dazed and hollow and never entirely himself. Even now he wasn’t sure he could really be with anybody. That’s why he didn’t want to date. His successes had been so hard won; he didn’t want to invite failure. 

“I guess,” Ben said. He was perched on the counter with his chin resting in his palm.

“What’s got you moping?” Klaus said, taking a pitcher out of the fridge and pouring a large cold brew. The line was winding down now, not steadily growing like before. 

“Hey do you think Vanya would want to hire anyone else?” Ben said, ignoring Klaus’s question. 

“Why?” 

Ben’s face fell. “No reason, it’s just that Jill has—“

“Oh, it’s about that girl you like! Is she here? I always forget what she looks like.”

“Keep your voice down, would you? People can still hear _you._ It doesn’t even matter. She can’t see me or hear me and even if she could she wouldn’t want to spend her time with a dead guy who’s just been stalking her.”

“Ben...”

“Don’t try to make me feel better. You know it’s true. And who cares if I’m moping You’ve spent a good 75 percent of your life moping.”

“Ouch, but Ben...”

“What?”

“Is that her?” 

“Shit.”

A young woman with dark skin and wide eyes behind square framed glasses was approaching the register. Her curly hair was tied back in pigtails and she had a messenger bag slung over one shoulder. Vanya (who, no doubt had been following half of the conversation) glanced over at Klaus and raised her eyebrows. 

“Switch with me for a while, why don’t you?” She said, over Ben’s protests. 

“What can I get for you?” Klaus was grinning. Ben had his head in his hands. 

“Oh, um...a large chai latte please. With almond milk. And a cinnamon roll if you have one left.”

“Ben, do we have any left?” Klaus asked, though he knew Diego had just made a new batch. 

“Yes...Jesus will you quit this?” Ben said. 

Klaus smiled. “Ben has informed me that we have a cinnamon roll with your name on it. And that name is?”

“Jill,” Jill said, glancing from side to side. “You’re Klaus, right?” She said, handing over her debit card. 

“The one and only,” he said. 

“So Ben must be...”

“Right over here. He says hello.” 

A small smile broke out over her face, and if Klaus wasn’t mistaken he could see her blush a bit. “I’ve always been a little sensitive to the supernatural. It runs in my family. My grandmother was a medium and...well anyway I always got the feeling that there were a lot of spirits in this shop.”

Klaus swallowed thickly. “Yes,” he said, ignoring the mass of ghosts that were pooling at the corners of his vision, too angry to look human. It was an old building, which didn’t help. And he was here, which especially didn’t help. 

“Well, it’s nice to meet you Ben,” Jill said, directing her gaze in approximation of where Klaus said Ben had been. She was pretty close, actually, nearly looking him in the eye. 

“Tell her I say I think she’s beautiful. Wait, no that’s creepy. Tell her I like her glasses,” Ben said. 

“He says he likes your glasses.”

Jill laughed, and then looked right at Ben. Klaus got chills. It really seemed for a moment that she could see him, and God did that make Klaus feel less alone. 

“Thank you,” she said. 

“Chai latte, almond milk, cinnamon roll,” Klaus repeated dumbly. “We’ll have that right out.” 

Jill’s gaze lingered in the space where Ben was for a moment before she nodded. 

“Oh, she likes you,” Klaus said, once she was out of ear shot. 

“Stop it,” Ben said, but he was still looking at her. 

There were only a few people left in line, and they were closing soon. Five was teleporting around wiping down tables (unnecessary, but pleasantly dramatic.) 

“Hi, again,” Dave said, when he reached the counter. He was the last person in line. 

“Hi,” Klaus said. Maybe it was because it had been a weird day. Maybe it was because he’d had a whole lot of caffeine and not much else. Maybe it was because he was getting a headache and his whole body was itching for a drink or a joint or some molly. But Dave’s eyes on him got him a little flustered. 

“I’m sorry,” Dave sputtered. “I’m an idiot. I really should have recognized you.”

Klaus shrugged. Years of drug abuse had sunken his eyes, thinned him out, made him perpetually pale and a bit crueler looking than before. Getting sober had filled him back out a bit, brought some color to his face, and had made his eye bags worse with insomnia. He didn’t look anything like he did when he was a kid. 

“What can I get for you Dave Katz?”

“A large soy vanilla latte, and a scone please,” he said quickly. 

“$7.62, so has your optimistic world view been satisfied?”

Dave handed him cash. “It usually isn’t, but today it has.”

Klaus looked him over. He looked about his age. He was wearing a paint stained University of Wisconsin sweatshirt with a denim jacket over it. His hair wasn’t damp anymore, and had curled a bit as it dried. He had his hands stuffed in the pockets of his corduroys and was rocking nervously on his feet. 

“I hope I’m not being too forward,” Klaus said. Ben laughed. Klaus was the definition of forward but he didn’t really want Dave to know that yet. “But would you like to go out sometime? With me. On a date,” he added. 

“Yes,” Dave said, instantaneously. 

“Alright, here’s my number,” Klaus said. He wrote it down with shaky hands. “That way if you change your mind you can just lose it.” 

“Klaus.” 

God, how did he already say his name like it was something precious. Klaus’s knees felt weak. 

“Yeah?”

“I’m not going to change my mind,” he said.

“Okay,” Klaus said.

“Jesus, you just met the man. You have no business looking that enamored already,” Ben said. 

“Shut up, Ben,” Klaus said. 

“Ben?” Dave looked a little confused, then his eyes lit with realization. “Your brother, Ben? The one who...”

“Ghost Ben,” Klaus said. “He likes to eavesdrop.” 

Dave nodded. “I’ll call you,” he said. Then Vanya made his coffee and Klaus handed him his scone, and he was gone. 

***

Five was anxious. He was anxious most of the time, which wasn’t a fact he was willing to admit to most people but was, nevertheless, a fact. Poetry was easy enough when he was memorizing it, or writing papers about its themes. He could talk his way through Walt Whitman or Emily Dickinson, but writing it was something else. He’d chosen poetry because he didn’t know a thing about it and because it was hard. But this was too hard. 

“I don’t know how to write about myself,” Five said. 

Vanya was cleaning up the café. “What do you mean?” She said. 

“I’m in a poetry writing class,” he said. “And I don’t know what to write about.” 

Vanya’s face scrunched up. “Is there a prompt?” 

“Introduce yourself,” he read from the assignment sheet. “It says I can interpret that however I want.” 

Vanya considered this for a moment. Five watched her. She was a writer. Her book had been well-written, if insensitive and a source of years of sibling tension. At least she was self-reflective. 

“Well, I would start by listing the things you’d want a new person to know about you.”

“I don’t want anyone to know anything about me,” Five lied. 

Vanya rolled her eyes. “Then maybe you’re in the wrong class,” she said. 

He closed his laptop and rolled up the sleeves of his sweater. It was too big for him; most of his new wardrobe was. After a month of wearing nothing but his Academy uniform, Allison had dragged him out to shop for an actual wardrobe. 

“It’s just creepy to keep wearing it,” she’d said. “Let’s just get you some stuff that’s more you.”

He’d ended up with some plain button ups, a couple of sweaters and sweatshirts, and a pretty neutral selection of pants. It wasn’t _him_ but it wasn’t not him. He opted for oversized items because he kind of hated his body. He’d come to terms with the being a kid again thing, in truth it felt more apt than being old. Spending your formative years alone in a wasteland wasn’t conducive to becoming a functional adult. Five didn’t think he was an adult at all, or a child. He was just...lost, more a collection of wants and muddled emotions than a real person. For so long his only goal had been to get back to his family and stop the apocalypse. Now that he’d done it he just felt empty. 

“Generate a list of adjectives,” Vanya suggested. “Poems have a lot of adjectives.”

Adjectives to describe him? Pedantic, stubborn, cold, dangerous, stuck—some other, better things maybe? 

The truth was, that since he’d gotten back, maybe even longer, Five Hargreeves hadn’t had a clue who he was. 

When Vanya left, the shop was quiet. He couldn’t even hear the sounds of the street outside, just a persistent silence that made his lungs seize. A draft of the poem was due tonight and he didn’t want to finish it back at the Academy. Five, Klaus, and Luther were the only ones who still stayed there, but Klaus was usually watching reality TV with the volume turned up stupidly loud at this time of night and Luther couldn’t help but be loud in everything he did. 

He put his head in his hands and let the silence suck him up for a moment before he began. It was just a draft. He could figure out what the hell to write later. Now it was just important to get words down:

_Scanning the last books on the shelf,_

_For one where the ink is neat and even._

_Not smudged with promises made to people with names I do not remember._

_Not teeming with words repeated to sound intellectual._

_Not long with dust crusted pages._

_Or short with confused musings._

_But a middling volume, smelling of gunpowder, where some sense of myself seems to lie_. 

Five got up, turned off the lights, and locked the door. 

***

Vanya left her brother to close up shop. He’d gotten some words on paper but by the look of his furrowed brows and furious way he was scribbling, Vanya suspected it wasn’t going well. 

She drove home. She had to be up early the next morning to make it to the farmer’s market, and she still had some work to finish tonight. Vanya had been working nonstop since the café opened. She didn’t want to fail. 

“None of it was your fault,” Allison told her, when her throat had healed enough to speak. They were stamping paper cups with the Café Zero logo. Vanya still couldn’t look at her half the time, without guilt and pain and unpleasant memories stinging her like a persistent sunburn. 

“It was. Thank you for being kind but I’m not innocent in all this,” she’d said. And Allison put a hand over hers. 

“It was Dad. And then Leonard. And us. Everyone tried to control you or diminish all that you are.”

Vanya shook her head. “I’m dangerous. You did what you thought was best. I was...I was hurt and out of control. I felt like everyone had lied to me my whole life.”

“Dad did. And he dragged us all into it. We didn’t trust you,” she said. Her voice was still weak. “We didn’t listen. And it almost cost us everything.” 

Vanya Hargreeves had something to prove. She felt that way her whole life, left out of everything, an annoyance, ordinary in all the worst ways. But now it was real. Now she had to prove that she wasn’t what everyone had thought. And that was backbreaking work. 

She was up at 5 most mornings, practicing violin (it kept her grounded), getting the shop ready, ordering supplies, baking, wrangling her siblings when the inevitable arguments arose. She was at the shop all day. When she wasn’t behind the counter she sat at a table and answered emails or planned that month’s events, or worked on developing drink specials. She was home by 8 or 9, made dinner when she had the energy to, finished anything she’d neglected, and went to bed. Twice a week she discussed her powers with Five, how to control them, what exercises could hone her abilities, how volatile she felt at any given moment. He was like her therapist. Except she met with Five on Tuesdays and Thursdays and her therapist on Sundays.

Situated in between everything else was Vanya’s favorite part of the week. Farmer’s market trips on Saturday morning energized her. She went every week, sometimes alone, sometimes with one of her siblings and bought eggs from the pretty farmer who ran the booth at the far end of the market. 

She didn’t admit it to anyone, but the pretty farmer kind of made her heart race. 

***

It was 7 a.m. and Klaus was doing a decent job of keeping the ghosts away. He tried his best, if only to keep having these mornings with Vanya. 

“So, when are you going to talk to her?” Klaus asked. 

“Talk to who?” Vanya said, gritting her teeth. 

“You know,” he said, taking a swig from the growler of kombucha he’d gotten a few stands back. “The pretty farmer who sells you all those eggs.”

“Her name is Sissy,” Vanya said. “And I talk to her.”

“ _I’ll have two dozen eggs please_ isn’t talking to her,” Klaus said. He wasn’t accustomed to being up this early, but he was trying to do things that healthy, well-adjusted people did. Maybe he was just getting old. 

“Well what about you? Ben told me you asked a guy out.”

“Ben told you?” Klaus said. 

“Well, I overheard you do it but I know Ben would tell me if he could,” she said. 

Klaus swished a sip of kombucha around his mouth. If he didn’t think too hard it tasted almost like wine. He used to love wine, just the drama of it: carrying a glass around lazily at a party, ordering an expensive bottle on a date where he knew he wouldn’t be paying, or waking up with a headache after giggling for hours on a mixture of rosé and weed. 

“It’s nothing. He was cute. I was bored,” Klaus said.

Vanya rolled her eyes. “Sure,” she said. 

He glanced over at his sister. He’d never told her, but she was a significant factor in his newfound sobriety. Something about the world ending, Vanya’s anger and pain, his siblings’ crushing disappointment in him, reignited from youth, and Ben’s fist hitting his cheek in the thick of his withdrawal had pushed him to try again. And his work at Café Zero was helping him keep to it. 

“The line’s long today,” Klaus said. They’d reached Sissy’s stand. She sold eggs and goat cheese that was to die for spread over crackers. Klaus’s first hint that Vanya had more than a passing interest in Sissy was the fact that she brought him container after container of said goat cheese in the early days of his sobriety after the vomiting had stopped and all he wanted to do was stuff his face to keep his mind off of other cravings. 

It was cheaper to buy the shop’s eggs somewhere else, but money wasn’t exactly an issue for the Hargreeves siblings anymore, so Vanya tried to source as many of their supplies locally as she could. 

“So where are you going with this guy?”

“I don’t know. He texted me but I haven’t responded,” Klaus said, finishing the last of his kombucha. “Hey, is Diego working today?”

“Don’t change the subject. You should take him to that little Mexican place on 5th,” she said, hugging her chest. It was starting to get cold. 

Klaus imagined Dave’s eyes in the multicolored string lights they had in the windows of the place on 5th. He wasn’t about to get his hopes up but there was something about Dave, like they’d met before. “He probably just wants to tell his friends he went on a date with the infamous Number 4,” he said instead. 

“Do people really do that?” Vanya said, and he balked at the note of pity that slipped into her voice. 

“No,” he lied. 

They were nearing the front of the line. Klaus could see Sissy. Her blonde hair was pulled back and she had a wide smile on her face. “If you don’t talk to her then I’m going to,” Klaus said. Vanya turned beet red. 

“Stop it.”

“Oh come on, I’m a good wingman,” Klaus said. 

“I don’t need a wingman,” Vanya said. 

“What can I get for you?” Sissy drawled. It was their turn. Klaus watched as Sissy’s smile grew even brighter. He knew she recognized Vanya. His sister was probably her most consistent regular.

“Two dozen eggs, please,” Vanya said, quickly.

“This is my sister Vanya,” Klaus said. “And I’m Klaus.”

“I’m Sissy. It’s nice to meet you,” Sissy said. Vanya was fumbling with her wallet to pay for the eggs. Klaus watched Sissy look him over. He was wearing a big, faux fur, leopard print coat that Allison had gotten him for his birthday, a knit hat with a pom pom, a striped t-shirt, and dark, skintight pants. It wasn’t the standard farmer’s market look but it was warm enough, which was usually an issue with Klaus’s wardrobe. “I know I’ve seen y’all around before. I didn’t realize you were brother and sister.” 

Klaus grinned. Maybe she’d thought they were dating, which would be hilarious but also a barrier to any flirtatious back and forth. 

“Vanya owns a coffee shop near here, Café Zero. That’s what all the eggs are for,” he continued. 

“You do?” Sissy‘s face flushed. “And here I thought you just loved omelets or had a big family.”

“I-I don’t own it, my siblings and I do. My sister and I and Klaus and the rest of our brothers,” Vanya said, tripping over her words. 

“Vanya bakes, and runs things,” Klaus said, and Vanya glared at him. 

“Well isn’t that something,” Sissy said. “I’m always glad to know where my work is going.”

“We love the market,” Klaus said. “Vanya especially.” Vanya elbowed him. 

“I do too. This is my side gig really. I’m a telemarketer during the week but it’s always a real treat to pack up everything and go to the market. And the extra income is certainly helping. I’m trying to get my son Harlan into some music lessons. My ex husband never really cared much about stuff like that but now that I’m making my own money I...oh well I’m babbling.

“Vanya plays the violin,” Klaus supplied. It was almost too easy. 

“Oh do you? Maybe you’d know a good teacher. My son is autistic and mostly non-verbal so I’ve been looking for teachers who can accommodate him,” Sissy said. Her gaze was fixed solidly on Vanya. She seemed to stare at her even when Klaus was speaking. 

“Yeah, I mean I could do some digging and let you know if—“

“Here’s her card,” Klaus said, sticking his hand in her jacket pocket and pulling out a Café Zero business card. 

“Maybe you could stop by sometime,” Vanya said. 

“That’d be lovely,” Sissy said. Vanya handed her the money. 

“Could I get some goat cheese too?” Klaus said. 

***

“This is an awful idea,” Ben said.

“Did Ben say that this was a bad idea because I agree,” Five said. 

“Well I agree with Klaus for once,” Diego said. He was filling muffin tins with batter. “Why not try?”

Klaus sighed. “Are you getting all this Benny?” 

“Sure,” Ben said. His siblings turned to look at him, to try to at least. He appreciated that, having their eyes on him like they could see him. 

Klaus had proposed that he try to facilitate a conversation between Ben and Jill. Ben’s heart (or at least his idea of it) was racing just thinking about it. 

“I can’t talk to her. It’ll be a disaster. I never even kissed anyone when I was alive.”

“Who said anything about kissing?” Klaus said and Diego and Five both laughed. 

“Tell them I say fuck you,” Ben said. 

“Ben says he loves you both,” Klaus said. 

“See, this is exactly why it’s a bad idea. I don’t trust you to repeat what I’m saying,” Ben said. He’d had his fair share of arguments with Klaus. He’d had a lot of things with his horribly self-destructive, narcissistic, charming, loving brother. He’d seen him at his worst, nearly dying in a darkened alley, pumping himself with toxins, lying, and stealing. He’d lost him in crowds of neon lights, seen him beaten, bruised, and taken advantage of. The painful truth was that Ben could never do a thing about it. 

“Ben—“ Klaus said, his eyes wide and watery. Fake tears, Ben knew them well enough. He didn’t know why he bothered. Sure, the sobriety was great. Ben was really proud of Klaus for that, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all temporary. 

“I don’t trust you,” Ben repeated. 

“What’s he saying?” Diego said.

“He’s hurting my feelings,” Klaus said. 

Five rolled his eyes. “If Ben doesn’t want to play ghost telephone in front of Jill he shouldn’t have to,” he said. 

“Thank you, Five,” Ben said. 

“You can’t keep blaming me when you’re too chicken to try for the things you want out of life,” Klaus said. 

“I’m dead!”

“She likes you, Benny!” 

“How do you know that?”

“Will you two shut up?” Diego said. 

Ben put his head in his hands. “I’m sorry, I just...I’m not like you, Klaus.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not brave,” Ben muttered. 

“You think I’m brave?” Klaus said. 

Ben flushed. “Fine, whatever. Yeah, I think you’re brave Klaus. You’re never scared to be who you are. What if she doesn’t like me?” 

“Diego, tell Ben he’s likable. I need to sit down,” Klaus said. 

“Ben, you are a wonderful person,” Diego said, dead serious.

I’m barely a person, he thought. There was safety in his crush being an abstract fantasy and not the reality, which was of course that Jill was corporeal and he wasn’t. 

“Jill asked me,” Klaus said. “This isn’t coming from me. If you want me to tell her no, then I will.”

Ben softened. “She asked?”

“Kind of seems like you should have led with that,” Five grumbled. 

“She didn’t want me to,” Klaus said. 

“Okay, then. I’ll do it,” Ben said, hands trembling. “If she asked you.”

Klaus met his eyes and Ben felt a pang of guilt. Their relationship had been tenuous at so many points. Ben knew Klaus was afraid he’d leave him and Ben was afraid Klaus would relapse and die this time. He’d nearly died too many times. 

“Great,” Klaus said, grinning. Ben didn’t miss the way his expression shifted, lighthearted and effortless to mask the storm that had passed over his eyes. 

“I’ll reserve you a table,” Diego said. “With candles.”

“Why don’t you just bring out a Ouija board for good measure?” Five said. 

“Don’t you have a class to be getting to?” Diego asked and Five blanched. 

“Good luck, Ben,” Five said tightly, and turned on his heel. 

“Is this your first date, Benny?” Klaus asked. 

“No,” he lied, but Klaus winked at him so he knew he wasn’t buying it. 

Ben remembered when they were kids, when he and Klaus would sneak into Allison’s room at night and Ben would sit on her bed and listen to the two of them gush over the boys in her teen magazines. It never came easily to Ben; romance always left him with an uncomfortable, squirming feeling. At least until he saw Jill. She seemed like his once in a blue moon opportunity to feel something for someone, and she couldn’t even see him. 

The three of them sat at a table. Jill was wearing a blue turtleneck with a pinafore dress over it, and her hands were curled around the mug of tea Klaus had brought her. Ben sat across from her, trying not to stare. 

“Thank you both for doing this,” she said, looking first at Klaus and then Ben. “I know it’s an odd sort of request, but I’m trying to be better about asking for the things I want instead of just staying quiet.”

“We should set some ground rules,” Ben said to Klaus. 

“Ben wants to lay out some rules. Presumably for how I’ll be translating,” Klaus said to Jill. 

She nodded. “Of course.”

Ben cleared his throat. They were both looking at him and he felt a new wave of nervousness. “Well, I don’t think you should be allowed to chime in, just say what I say and don’t try to talk to me in the pauses,” Ben said. “And say exactly what I say if I’m speaking to Jill. Don’t paraphrase.”

“Agreed,” Klaus said, and then outlined the rules for Jill. 

“If you could make his inflection clear, that would be helpful as well, Klaus,” Jill said. 

“Think of me as Ben’s walkie talkie,” Klaus said, leaning back in his chair.

“Why did you want to talk to me?” Ben asked, and Klaus repeated it. 

Jill looked at Klaus and then back to Ben. She laughed. “Well I thought you’d noticed me staring at you all the time.”

Ben had, in the hours he’d dedicated to watching Jill from afar, noticed her looking at Klaus. But he was under the impression that she was really just looking at Klaus, and not where she perceived him to be. 

“I guess staring is the wrong word, because I don’t exactly know what I’m looking at. But like I said, I’ve always been sort of sensitive to spirits. My grandmother was too. She devoted her life to conversing with spirits actually, after my grandfather died,” Jill said. She adjusted her hands on the warm mug. “It was always a sore subject with my mom, though. So I never really told anyone I could sense ghosts too. I’m not as strong as my grandma was but I got the feeling you were here, and sometimes it feels like I can almost see you. Though maybe that’s wishful thinking.”

“You look me right in the eye most of the time,” Ben said. 

Jill grinned when Klaus repeated it. “I’ve never been great at doing that with the living. I just felt like I needed to talk to you, any way I could.”

“I don’t talk to much of anyone besides Klaus. My siblings try. And Klaus has been able to manifest me a couple of times so they know what I look like now and know I’m still here. But I’ve seen you around the shop and I guess I’ve felt the same,” Ben said. 

“The same?” Jill said. 

“That I should talk to you. That you were someone special. Not that I’m anyone special, but anyway. I mean I’m not even really a person anymore. For a long time all I thought I was good for was taking care of Klaus. And I was never really good at that anyway,” Ben said. He’d nearly forgotten Klaus was there when he heard Klaus’s voice break a bit on the part about him. 

Ben looked over at him. Klaus had been, true to his word, repeating everything Ben said verbatim. He nearly sounded like Ben when he talked, like he was really trying to get everything right. 

“Well, you’re both here aren’t you? You’ve gotten each other this far,” Jill said. She put a hand over Klaus’s and Ben followed the motion, the way Klaus’s expression crumbled against Jill’s kindness. Ben shivered. 

“I wish I could touch you. No, shit Klaus don’t repeat that I—“

It was too late. Klaus had said it. “Sorry Ben,” Klaus added. “You didn’t give me a rule for that.” 

Jill got a wistful look on her face. “I wish I could touch you too, Ben,” she said. “Can you lean forward a little?”

He was about to protest that it wasn’t worth even trying, but he leaned forward anyway and she stretched her arms out to cup his face. Her fingers went right through him, of course, but he could nearly feel it, a murmur of a touch. 

“You’re cold,” she said. “I can feel that.” 

“Do you think we could talk again? Or just spend more time together?” Ben blurted he felt dizzy and lightheaded. 

Jill nodded. “I was thinking you could read over my shoulder if you wanted? I’m a pretty slow reader, so you’d have time to read the pages with me. You could pick the book,” she said. 

“I’d love that,” he said. 

“Great,” she said. Her smile was radiant. “It’s a date, then.”

***

Klaus thought about cancelling approximately one hundred times before his date with Dave. He cycled through excuses in his head: he’d fallen down the stairs at the Academy and sprained his ankle, Vanya needed him for a work emergency, Five was missing again, he had a migraine. Migraines used to be code for a bad hangover or the ghosts getting too loud or he was just too high to move.

They’d agreed to meet at the Mexican restaurant Vanya had mentioned. Despite the chill, Klaus’s hands were sweating the whole walk there. Ben had left him alone; things were a little awkward after the conversation with Jill. Ben had been stuck with him longer than anyone else, and had every reason not to trust Klaus, but it still hurt to hear. The more Klaus failed him the less they seemed to really talk. 

Klaus froze a few paces before the restaurant. He checked his pockets futilely for a cigarette. He didn’t buy them any more. Klaus had stared at himself in the mirror for a solid hour trying to pick an outfit. He’d gone with a gray turtleneck, dark floral skirt, boots, and tights to keep his legs from freezing. He’d forgone the leopard print coat for a plainer black one. It seemed like a good outfit for a first date, or at least a good look to be stood up in, if it came to that. 

“Klaus!” Dave was coming up the sidewalk from the other direction. Klaus blinked, truly not expecting to see him. He thought he’d be late at least, fresh off drinks with some other guy. But there he was, waving, looking sharper in a button down and dark jeans. 

“Good timing,” he said, closing the gap between them until they were only a handful of inches apart. Dave looked him over. 

“You look amazing,” he said. And that really wasn’t what Klaus was excepting so he just flushed and looked down at the pavement. 

“Geez, give a guy time to catch his breath,” he muttered. This was his first date since he’d gotten sober and he was already feeling it. On other dates, and to be honest there were a lot more hookups and instances of transactional sex than dates, Klaus had had the luxury of letting the drugs do the talking. The drugs were good at making flirtatious, charming, only slightly desperate things spill out of him. He didn’t have any shame when he was high. 

“I’m sorry,” Dave said quickly. “You just look nice. I couldn’t help myself.”

“No, no it’s not that I just...I’m sorry, it’s just been a long time since I’ve been out with anyone and, Jesus I guess I shouldn’t admit that, huh?” Klaus laughed nervously. 

Dave smiled, and he was so warm already, more than Klaus deserved. “It’s okay,” he said. “Do you want to go in?”

“Sure,” Klaus said. 

Dave ordered them an appetizer, nachos piled with cheese, salsa, and jalapeños. Klaus thought he’d be too nervous to eat but it was helpful to have something to keep him from babbling. “So, what do you do?” Klaus asked. It seemed like a place people usually started. 

“I’m getting my masters in social work,” Dave said. “I only moved here a few months ago. I’ve been staying with my cousin.

“How do you like it?” Klaus said, through a mouthful of nachos. He was trying not hunch too much.

“The city’s nice, big. School is hard,” Dave said. 

Klaus nodded. He leaned his elbows on the table. “Sounds hard. I barely graduated high school and I was homeschooled.”

Dave laughed and Klaus had to look down at his menu to keep from staring. “They have good frozen margaritas,” he said. “I mean, I don’t drink them any more but they’re good. They’re big. And uh, cold.”

“I bet,” Dave said, and Klaus gritted his teeth. He was fucking up. His hands were sweating. 

“Hey Klaus?” Dave said. 

“Yeah?” 

“You can relax,” he said gently. “I’m having a good time.”

“You are?” Klaus said, and he was taken aback at how pitiful he sounded, even to himself. 

“Yeah. You just look like you’re scared of me,” Dave said. 

Klaus put his head in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I just haven’t been out with anyone since I got sober and I don’t know know how to flirt anymore. I don’t know why I asked you out in the first place. Maybe it was because Ben was there. You’re just really cute and you seem so nice,” Klaus said. 

“I think you’re cute and nice too,” Dave said.

“Well, you’re wrong. I mean, I’m cute but I’m not nice,” Klaus said. 

The waiter came back and took their orders. Dave got a burrito and Klaus got shrimp tacos. 

“You’re nice. You’re just hard on yourself,” Dave said. 

“Are you sure you’re real?” Klaus said. No one else thought he was nice. 

“I’m real enough, Dave said. 

“It was just easier when I was high. I didn’t sweat this much.”

“How long have you been sober?” Dave asked. 

“Almost six months,” he said. It should have been longer, but six months had been pretty damn hard. He felt his face flushing. “I guess that’s not the sort of thing you talk about on a first date.”

Dave leaned forward. They were close, separated by the empty plate of nachos. Dave took his hands. They were still sweating terribly. “You seem to have a lot of rules in your head,” he said, and Klaus felt a shiver up his spine. 

“Blame my dad,” Klaus said, relaxing into the touch. “I’d trade him hours training in the mausoleum for reruns of _The Nanny._ Hegot the better end of the deal, though. My head usually hurt too much to pay attention to anything but Fran’s outfits.”

“They were the best part anyway,” Dave said. “My dad used to fall asleep watching George Lopez and I’d sneak out to the living room and watch _The Nanny_ until he woke up. He caught me once and nearly beat my ass.”

“Your dad sounds about as charming as mine.”

“Hey, I think you have a safe monopoly on bad dad stories,” Dave said. There was something sad behind his eyes. “My dad and I aren’t really on speaking terms anymore.” 

Dave was still holding his hands so Klaus squeezed Dave’s encouragingly. “That must be rough,” he said. Dave let go and folded his arms self-consciously over his chest. 

“Your legal name is a number,” he said. 

“It’s not a contest, David,” Klaus said. He laughed, which made Dave laugh and suddenly everything was easier. 

Klaus told a story about how a place like this had thrown him out for chugging four frozen margaritas in half an hour and how he’d thrown up neon green slush in the gutter outside. Dave told him about growing up on a farm and crying over the animals his dad slaughtered. Klaus told Dave about his robot mom and Dave told Klaus about his human mom and the food she’d make for Rosh Hashanah. 

When their food arrived Dave traded Klaus a sliver of his burrito for one of his tacos. Klaus told more stories, waving his hands animatedly, and Dave seemed genuinely interested, which was a first for Klaus. Even his siblings tended to ignore a good third of what he said (which wasn’t a terrible ratio given the types of things that his drug fried brain spat out.) But Dave was listening to everything. 

“How often do you work at the shop?” Dave asked. 

“Three days a week, sometimes four,” Klaus said. He was trying to manage more, but some days he had addiction support group meetings and others he couldn’t get out of bed. “It’s my first real job, well legal job I guess,” he said. 

“And it’s helping?” Dave said. “With everything, I mean.” He gestured vaguely, but Klaus knew what he meant. 

“It is,” Klaus said. 

Klaus grabbed for the bill, but Dave was quicker. 

“You know I’m loaded right? Inheritance money?” He said. 

“You can pay for the next date,” Dave said. And Klaus melted. 

“Okay,” he said. 

When they left, Klaus offered to walk Dave home. He didn’t expect anything from him. The thought of even kissing Dave made him buzz with nervous energy, like a first kiss all over again. But at the same time, he couldn’t stand to let him walk away, in case Dave was lying and this was their last date.

Dave let him, even though they were heading in the opposite direction of the Academy. 

“So I have a confession to make,” Dave said. They both had their hands sunk deep in their pockets and Klaus was trying not to gape at Dave’s mop of wind tussled hair. “I may have downplayed the extent to which I was obsessed with you as a preteen,” Dave said. 

“Hopefully not in a murder way,” Klaus said. 

“Oh god, no. I just mean I had a lot of posters of you in my bedroom closet. You know the ones that came in magazines? I had my friends give me all the ones of you and I taped them to the inside of my closet.”

“Christ, why in your closet? Isn’t that a little on the nose,” Klaus said. 

“Hiding from my dad,” Dave said. That seemed to be a theme in his stories. Dave noticed Klaus’s hesitation and glanced over at him. “I mean a lot of people knew I was gay, but I didn’t really come out until I was 22.”

They had reached Dave’s door. He stopped in front of it and crossed his arms again. He was only a year younger than Klaus, but he looked younger. It was probably the lack of a drug problem, but it came down to the way he carried himself too. Dave carried himself like he expected the world to hurt him, with his head down, his movements slight. He carried himself like he’d rather be invisible. That’s what years in the closet could do. 

“Oh,” Klaus said. He couldn’t imagine what that was like, to hide for so long. 

Dave laughed, but it was harsher than his other laugh. He looked down at his feet. “It’s kind of fucked up, I know. I’m still sort of figuring out who I am outside of the closet. I’m the idiot who let it go on that long anyway and—“

“Dave,” Klaus said. And Dave a looked at him. His face was red and his eyes were wide. “You’re not an idiot. And you don’t need to justify your decisions to anyone, least of all me.” 

“I’m sorry,” Dave said. He smoothed back his hair. “You’re right.”

“It’s rare, but I am right on occasion,” Klaus said. 

Dave choked out another laugh. “Do you want to come in? I’ve got tea and coffee.”

“I’ve got a pretty bad headache. I should probably turn in. I’m sorry,” Klaus said. 

“Of course! Are you okay?” Dave said. 

“It’s just the alleyways,” Klaus said, waving a hand to the alleys down Dave’s street. “Lots of ghosties. It’s getting kind of loud.”

“Oh,” Dave said, clearly taken aback. “I didn’t realize they were—“

“Always there, yep. Expect Benny, he gives me some privacy.”

“Can I get you anything?” Dave asked. 

He could get him a lot of things but Klaus held his tongue. “I’ll be fine. Thanks,” he said. 

Dave nodded and rocked back and forth on his feet. “I had a good time tonight,” he said. 

“I really like you,” Klaus said. “I guess I’m not really supposed to say that either.”

Dave grinned. “I really like you too.”

The wind was picking up and Klaus shivered. 

“Can I call you an Uber at least? Or lend you a hat?” Dave said. 

“You’re too sweet for me,” Klaus said. He’d meant it as a joke but it didn’t come out like one. Klaus thought everyone was too sweet for him, even people who were (by all reasonable estimations) not so sweet at all. 

“I’m not,” Dave said. And they lingered, painfully long, until the cold started to seep in. 

“Can I—?“ Klaus said. 

“Yes.”

And Klaus kissed him, just gently, until Dave returned the kiss with more urgency. 

“I’ll call you,” Dave said, when they pulled away. “And come by the shop.”

“Okay,” Klaus said. He was still dazed with the contact, with the immediacy of the fondness that had spread through his chest. 

“Goodnight Klaus,” Dave said. 

***

Klaus stopped at a hot dog stand on the way home and bought three hot dogs (one for him, and two for Luther) and a coke (for Five). He found that his brothers were much more likely to listen to his ramblings if he brought them gifts. 

“I’m back!” He announced, waltzing into the Academy’s living room and setting down his bag on the coffee table. He didn’t notice Five sprawled out on the couch until he groaned and rolled over. He had a half empty bottle of whiskey in one hand. 

“What happened to you?” Klaus asked. 

“‘M having an existential crisis, Klaus,” Five slurred, squinting at him from his awkward slump on the couch. His tie was loose and his shoes were off. “I’d appreciate it if you left me to my misery.”

Klaus sat down across from him. “Where’s Luther?”

“Kitchen. He wants me to drink some water,” Five said, pushing himself upright. His head lolled forward and Klaus resisted the impulse to laugh. It wasn’t funny, obviously, but the sight of his older/younger brother absolutely shit-faced was always ridiculous in juxtaposition to the ordinarily put together (if manic) Five. 

“Well, you can have my hot dog, if you promise not to choke on it.” 

“I don’t know what you’re saying to me,” Five said. 

“I brought hot dogs,” Klaus said, gesturing to the bag. “What did you think I meant?”

Five ripped open the bag and selected one of the hot dogs. Klaus had gotten all the condiments on all three of them, and he watched Five examine the mess of mustard and relish smeared atop the bun. 

“Where were you?” Five asked, between bites.

“On a date,” Klaus said. “It went well.”

“Doesn’t it always?” Five said. He’d leaned back into the couch, stretching like a cat. 

Klaus blinked. “No? What do you mean?”

Five rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. “You-you’re charming, you know? And you’ve got a nice presence about you, the drama. People are drawn to that,” he said. 

“Are they now?”

“Why are you interrupting my crisis?”

Luther had returned with the water. Klaus handed him the remaining hot dogs and assured him that he could handle Five if he wanted to go to bed. 

“Come get me if you need help getting him back to his room,” Luther said. 

Klaus nodded and Five sighed dramatically. “I don’t _need_ any help,” he said. Klaus and Luther shared a look. 

“Thanks,” Klaus said. 

“Dolores used to say I was charming,” Five said, once Luther was gone. “But she was prone to flattery.”

“Is this crisis about Dolores?” Klaus said. He opened the coke and took a sip. 

“No,” Five said. His cheeks were red, even redder when Klaus mentioned Dolores. “I know she wasn’t...I know that I was alone out there, in a way.”

“Five—“

“I’ve gotta write a poem about myself. For class. I just don’t know who I am,” he said, blinking slowly. His eyelashes fluttered like when they were kids and he fell asleep reading past their bedtime. 

“What do you mean?” Klaus asked, though he had some idea. Klaus had odd moments where he looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize himself. When he was high he’d just laugh it off and twist his face into expressions until he found one he recognized. When he was sober it just freaked him out. 

“I mean _I don’t know._ I don’t know what I like or what I’m supposed to be doing or why I’m still here. I kind of thought we’d all be dead by now,” Five said. 

“Fair point.”

“I just know that I—“ he stopped, gaze intensifying comically. 

“What?”

“Don’t make me say it,” Five said. He took another swig of the whiskey and Klaus winced. 

“You’ve really lost me, man,” Klaus said. 

Five hunched forward, elbows on his thighs, head dropping to one side. “That I love my family,” he said. 

“Oh,” Klaus said. He allowed himself the surprise, even though it should have been obvious.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Five muttered. 

“Fine, I’ll get new eyes,” Klaus said. 

“I’m hopeless.”

“You’re not hopeless, you’ve got a place to start, at least. And poetry’s all about self-discovery isn’t it? Trust the process or whatever they say,” Klaus said. He got up and helped Five off the couch. His brother sunk into him for a moment, almost a hug. Five was warm and smelled like coffee on top of the whiskey. 

“I said I didn’t need any help,” he grumbled into Klaus’s neck. 

“Oh, who are you kidding. We all do. Come on, you’re working tomorrow.”

“I like working too,” Five said, leaning on Klaus as they made their way up the stairs. “It makes Vanya happy.”

Klaus smiled. “You really are a big softie. The rumors are true,” he said. 

“I’ll kick your ass,” he said, without venom. 

Klaus guided him down the hallway and deposited his brother on the bed. He pulled off his blazer and tie and Five curled up into a little ball and started to snore. Klaus covered him with a blanket and turned off the light. 

His headache had dissolved into the ether, along with the remaining ghosts. He found that when he was really focused on a task the ghosts left him alone for a little while. 

He had to work tomorrow too, with a no doubt criminally hungover Five. He could go in early and make him some coffee, maybe see if Diego would set aside one of the blueberry muffins he liked so much. 

“You’re a good brother, you know?” Ben said. He had materialized at his side. 

Klaus shrugged. “Sometimes, I guess.”


	2. Dream Lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanya connects with a “friend.” Klaus and Dave listen to some music. Five wears some outfits. There’s still a lot of coffee.

It was Wednesday evening at the café. The sun was setting outside and the crowd had dwindled to the stragglers finishing up work, dates that had gone well and stretched longer with conversation, and older people reading the paper or playing chess. Vanya liked the shop best in the evenings, when the noise of the day faded into this quiet hum of energy. 

Most of her siblings were there too. Five was sprawled on one of the café’s couches, reading. Allison and Diego were behind the counter with Vanya; Allison was playing a mix of 60s pop with dreamy lyrics and upbeat rhythms. Luther was in the back assembling a new bookshelf they’d gotten to make a little library in a free corner of the shop. Ben was reading over Jill’s shoulder. Vanya could tell he was there because Jill kept looking back at him and every so often she’d laugh, as if at some private joke. It reminded her of when they were kids, and Klaus seemed to have multiple conversations going at once. Vanya had never been sure who was listening every time they spoke. 

Klaus was out with Dave. He’d left early to grab lunch with him, but was coming back to help her close. Diego and Allison had been speculating about Klaus’s new love interest for the last hour and a half. None of them had met him, except Vanya who had seen him in passing when he first came to the shop. 

“Klaus said he was a graduate student, and that he’s sweet,” Diego said. He was perched on a free counter, drying glasses with a dish towel. “Doesn’t really seem like his type.”

“You know two things about him and you’re deciding he’s not Klaus’s type,” Allison said. 

Diego rolled his eyes. “Okay, but think about the last what—eight people he’s been with?”

“There was Ethan, the guitarist,” Allison said, frowning. 

“You mean Ethan the guy who broke Klaus’s wrist,” Diego said, tightly.

“And that couple, Axel and Holly? Was her name Holly or was it another plant name?” Allison said. 

“It was Fern,” Vanya said. She remembered how bubbly Klaus had been around the two of them, though maybe that was because they’d hooked him up with a steady supply of uppers. It had mostly been a casual threesome arrangement from Vanya’s perspective, but Klaus had been pretty broken up when they dumped him. 

“Holly was the go-go dancer,” Diego said. 

“She was nice,” Allison said. 

“She also got him arrested, remember? She just left him at the club,” Diego said. It occurred to Vanya that Diego had seen more of Klaus’s romantic mishaps than the rest of them. Before Dad died Diego had been the one taking him in when he agreed to stay in one place for more than a few days. He’d been the one picking him up from the hospital or rehab. Diego didn’t really talk about that, though. They hadn’t talked about Klaus’s sobriety much at all, maybe they were all just holding their breath, hoping it would stick. 

“Nick the drug dealer,” Diego continued. 

“They weren’t really together,” Vanya said.

“They lived together,” Diego said. “Just because he was a prick the whole time doesn’t mean they didn’t date.” 

“And before that it was just those guys he’d hook up with crashing college parties,” Allison said. She got a distant look on her face. “I guess what you’re really saying is that Klaus usually goes for scummy guys who treat him like shit,” she said. 

“Well we’ve all been there haven’t we?” Vanya said. Her mouth tasted sour. 

“I don’t know enough about Diego’s personal life to rule definitively on that one,” Allison said, narrowing her eyes at their brother. 

“I had an ex who used to throw darts at me,” Diego said, and at their horrified silence added: “I mean they didn’t hit me, y’know, powers? That was the joke. It was a bad joke. He made a lot of bad jokes.” 

Allison sighed. “I fail to see your point though. Isn’t it good that Dave isn’t Klaus’s usual type?”

Diego hopped off of the counter. “I just want to make sure he really isn’t Klaus’s usual type, that’s all. I don’t want this Dave guy to trick him, especially when he’s been doing so well lately.”

That was when Sissy came in. The dying light caught in her hair, making it glow a dreamy golden color that Vanya couldn’t keep her eyes off of. 

“Vanya? You okay?” Allison asked. She’d been saying something, Vanya realized, when Sissy stole Vanya’s attention. 

“Sorry I...uh what were you saying?” She said. 

“I said we should get Klaus to introduce us sometime. Maybe a dinner party? Everyone could bring someone?” Allison said. 

“Who am I going to bring?” Diego said. 

“Anyone but the dart guy,” Allison said. “You don’t have to bring anyone if you don’t want to. What do you think, Vanya?”

“Who are you looking at?” Diego cut in, following the line of Vanya’s sight. 

“Just an uh...a friend. She just came in,” Vanya said. 

“Just a friend,” Allison repeated, sharing a look with Diego. 

“Yeah, a friend,” Vanya said through gritted teeth. Sissy was there, smiling the way she did at the market. It seemed a rare privilege to see her in this new context. 

“I meant to stop in sooner,” she said. It had been a few weeks. “But things got busy and I didn’t see you at the market,” Sissy said. 

Vanya flushed. She’d been embarrassed so she’d sent Luther to get the eggs. “It’s okay, I’m just glad you’re here now,” Vanya sputtered. She could feel Diego and Allison’s eyes on her. 

Sissy sighed. “Oh thank goodness. I thought maybe you’d be disappointed in me,” she said. 

Vanya was too distracted by the way the stray pieces of Sissy’s hair were floating, wispy, around her face. “No, um...would you want to sit for a bit? I can take a break. Can I get you a drink?”

“An iced tea would be great,” Sissy said. 

“Aren’t you going to introduce us, Vanya?” Allison said, elbowing her sister lightly. 

Vanya jumped. “Oh right, this is my sister Allison and my brother Diego.”

“Sissy Cooper, it’s nice to meet you,” Sissy said, offering her hand to each of them. 

“Sissy sells us our eggs,” Vanya said, sheepishly. When most people said friend they didn’t mean the people who sold them produce.

“Well then, that iced tea is on the house,” Allison said, pouring a large glass. 

They sat down, Sissy on one of the big couches and Vanya perched on a loveseat.

“Your siblings seem nice,” Sissy said, sipping her tea.

Vanya laughed. “You’ve only met half of them. But yeah, I guess they can be,” she said. 

“How many of you are there?” Sissy said, wide eyed. 

“Seven,” she said. 

“Seven? I can hardly handle one of my own,” Sissy said. 

It occurred to Vanya that she should clear everything up. Sissy clearly didn’t know she was part of the infamous Umbrella Academy and it seemed kind of like a lie not to mention it. Before they were reunited it was never something she mentioned. She’d thought she was the ordinary one, after all. It didn’t matter much aside from the trauma then, and lots of people had bad childhoods. Still, it seemed like one of those things you disclosed early, like allergies or political affiliation. 

In college people had known, but in a passing, eye-rolling way. They’d been stuck with the boring Hargreeves kid. And she hardly told stories about the others. Vanya had kept to herself. At the odd party she’d nervously answer questions about her siblings, cradling a drink and looking at the floor while her classmates waxed nostalgic about reading the comics as kids or seeing Allison in the movies. And people would ask her why she didn’t go home for holidays. She’d thought that was a given, but the public didn’t really know what happened in the mansion.

“Your sister looked familiar,” Sissy said. 

“She was in movies. Allison Hargreeves,” Vanya said. 

Something clicked behind Sissy’s eyes. “Hargreeves...so you’re? Gosh, I’m slow on the uptake ain’t I?”

Vanya looked down. “No, it’s okay I mean...I never said. I always feel a little awkward mentioning it. Sometimes people just know. We were in the public eye for a long time.” 

“Right,” Sissy said. Her voice seemed to soften, everything about her did. She leaned so her elbows were on her knees. “So...powers?”

Vanya wrung her hands. “I came into them later in life but I...I can manipulate sound waves to uh, make things float or explode.”

Sissy laughed. “Use that much here?” 

“Fortunately not,” she said. “Though it’s hard to intimidate a group of other super powered people.”

“Oh, I was thinking maybe pouring drinks without your hands. Though maybe I’m thinking a little too Mary Poppins,” Sissy said. 

Vanya’s shoulders relaxed fractionally. She’d perceived herself as dangerous for so long. And it seemed like everyone around her did too, and would until she got her powers under control. Even then they might never see her as anything other than a threat. But here was Sissy, comparing her to Mary Poppins. 

“Maybe,” Vanya repeated, and their eyes met. Maybe Vanya hadn’t been imagining this, the spark between them that seemed to condense into something breathtaking any time Vanya can muster the courage to really look at Sissy. 

“How’d you get into coffee?” Sissy said. 

“Oh, uh, I just wanted a new project I guess,” she said. “I like coffee.”

“It’s a nice place,” she said.

Vanya smiled. The place was clearing out. Vanya had asked her siblings to stay behind for a group meeting, and they lingered. 

“I, uh, looked into music teachers, for your son,” Vanya said. She fumbled in her pocket for the list she’d written, only slightly embarrassed that she’d been carrying it around for weeks. 

“Thank you!” She took it gratefully. “This is amazing, Vanya. Thank you. Harlan’s been so excited about music lately. I have this old record player in my apartment. It was my dad’s. He left it to me when he died. And I put on his old Linda Ronstadt records and Harlan just loves them. I never see him light up like that otherwise.”

“Well, I know most of the people there,” Vanya said, gesturing to the list. “And the others are people they recommended. I’d offer to teach him myself but I don’t really play much anymore.”

“Why not?” Sissy asked gently. 

“Oh, um,” Vanya stared at her feet again. “I only took it up in the first place to try to impress my dad. That never really worked. I like it. Music is good for my anxiety and everything I just...can’t put as much effort into it as I used to.”

“I understand,” Sissy said. And she sounded like she really did. “I took up a lot of things for my ex that don’t feel as fun anymore. Or maybe they never were.” Sissy shook her head. “I didn’t mean to...well I only meant to say I’m sure your playing is lovely, even if it didn’t feel like that growing up.” 

“Thank you,” Vanya said. 

Sissy made to get up. It was getting dark outside. “Thank you again,” she said. “He’ll love this.”

“Anytime,” Vanya said, wanting Sissy to stay, but knowing there was no practical way to ask. “You should stop by again, when you aren’t too busy.” 

Sissy smiled. She ripped a strip of paper from the end of the list and pulled a pen out of her purse. “Here’s my number,” she said, scribbling it down. “If you want to do lunch or something, sometime.”

“Yeah, definitely,” Vanya said, a bit too enthusiastically. Sissy held out the slip of paper and Vanya took it. 

“I’ll see you around then. And at the market?”

“Of course,” Vanya said. 

When Sissy had left, Five appeared at her side in a spark of blue light. His hands were stuffed in his pockets. 

“New friend?” He said, eying her. 

“I hope so,” Vanya said. 

“Well, next time introduce me,” he said and she thought she caught a hint of embarrassment in his voice. Five was always embarrassed about perfectly natural things, like caring for his family.

“Sure,” Vanya said. 

“Family meeting soon?” Five said, straightening his tie. He was wearing an outfit she hadn’t seen before: a grey dress shirt, corduroys, blue tie, and matching oversized cardigan. It was an old man outfit, he looked vaguely like Mr. Rogers wearing it, but it suited him more than other things she’d seen him wear. 

“Yeah,” she said. “I’ll make some tea.”

He nodded. “I’ll summon the others.” He tended to defer to her authority in matters of the café, which made sense but was funny given the authority Five ordinarily commanded. 

“Alright,” she said. “You go do that.” 

***

Allison put up the closed sign just as Klaus and Dave arrived. Dave stopped Klaus with a hand over his on the door handle. 

“What if they don’t like me?” Dave asked, voice high and pinched in a way Klaus had yet to hear. 

“If they don’t like you then I don’t like them anymore.”

“ _Klaus._ ”

“I’m serious,” Klaus said, brushing the hair out of his eyes. “If my family doesn’t like you, then they’re out of their collective mind.” It made something twist in Klaus’s chest to see Dave nervous about this. He’d introduced people he was seeing to his siblings before, but it was usually under more humiliating circumstances, like while asking for money, or high out of his mind on Vanya’s front steps with some girl he’d slept with when they were both too out of it to see straight. It was never planned, and no one was ever nervous. 

Dave nodded, and Klaus opened the door. Vanya was setting things up at a long table. She had a pot of tea and stack of accompanying cups alongside her notes. Diego and Allison were seated beside her, talking animatedly about something. Luther was pouring himself some tea and looking comically large with the delicate cup. Five was sulking on the other side of Vanya, nose in a book of poems, with Ben hovering at his shoulder. 

“I can get you some coffee if you’d rather? Five has usually put on a fresh pot by now,” Klaus said to Dave, who had his hand anchored to Klaus’s. 

“I don’t need anything, thanks,” Dave said, as the Hargreeves siblings all turned to look at them.

“You brought Dave,” Ben said, grinning. “Must be getting serious?” 

“Yes Ben, I did bring Dave,” Klaus said. “Everybody, this is Dave. Be nice; I like him.” 

Diego, of all people, was the first to react. “Nice to meet you, Dave,” he said, offering his hand. “I’m Diego.” He looked Dave up and down pointedly. 

He looked over to Allison. “Well, he certainly doesn’t look like Klaus’s usual type.”

Dave flushed and Allison swatted Diego. 

“What?” Diego said. “I only meant that he—“

“Christ, Diego don’t say confusing shit. Davey, my usual type is really gross manipulative assholes. He’s trying to give you a compliment,” Klaus said. 

“I’m just assessing! I’m not giving compliments or not giving compliments. I barely know the guy,” Diego said. 

“Great, now you know you don’t have to take him out back and stab him,” Five said, rolling his eyes. 

“Could you go ten minutes without saying something that makes us sound insane?” Diego shot back. 

“You started it, moron,” Five growled. Diego launched a coffee stir at him, which, obviously, hit Five square in the nose. 

“And that’s my oldest littlest brother, Five,” Klaus supplied as his brothers continued to argue. 

Dave nodded, looking stricken. 

“That’s Luther, and you met Ben,” he continued. Luther waved awkwardly, while attempting to break up Diego and Five. “And my sisters Vanya and Allison. They’re where I get my patience and style, respectively.”

Vanya frowned. “Klaus, you’re a lot of wonderful things but I wouldn’t put patient on that list,” she said. 

“And I don’t know if I’m being complimented or insulted. If you mean you steal my clothes and return them in considerably worse shape, then sure,” Allison said. She winked at the pair of them. 

“Everyone’s ganging up on me today,” Klaus said. He squeezed Dave’s hand. “The one day I bring my boyfriend.”

They all looked at him and suddenly Klaus was flustered. “I mean, uh—“

“I am your boyfriend,” Dave said. 

Klaus looked at him, and it was dizzying how quickly his chest filled up with affection. “Yeah,” he said. 

Five teleported beside them and Dave nearly jumped out of his skin. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Five said, extending a hand. “Klaus’s boyfriend.”

Things had been going well. It had been three and a half weeks. Dave, true to his word, let Klaus pay the next time they went out. And this time Klaus said yes when Dave invited him up. 

“I’ve got coffee and tea,” Dave had said. “Or, um, lemonade?” He’d hovered nervously by the fridge while Klaus sprawled himself on the couch. They’d gotten falafels this time, at a place Dave picked, and conversation came easily. 

“Water is fine,” Klaus hummed, looking around at Dave’s cousin’s apartment. There didn’t seem to be many traces of Dave around, except the textbooks on the kitchen table and Dave himself. 

Dave brought him a glass of water. “Where’s your cousin?” 

“At his girlfriend’s,” he said. “For the night,” he added, an afterthought that lingered, red hot, between them. 

Klaus tried to play this scenario out under normal circumstances: he’d have a few drinks from the liquor supply he’d seen on Dave’s cousin’s counter. He wondered which bottles were Dave’s. The whiskey? Cheap vodka, tall, thin bottle of gin, coffee liqueur? Dave would sit close to him on the couch. Klaus would kiss him, move into his space with the the liquid grace that only inhabited him fully when he was high. He’d pop some pills, take Dave back to the bedroom, and then the rest would blur out at the edges. Sex was usually something Klaus pieced together after the fact. And when it wasn’t it usually hurt. 

“Klaus?” Dave was close, though not as close as the phantom Dave he’d imagined. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry I’m just...thinking,” Klaus said. 

Dave sipped the coffee he’d poured for himself. “Penny for your thoughts?”

Klaus looked at him, the soft lamplight on his hair, the gentle way he was looking. Klaus felt a surge of guilt. He didn’t really deserve this, did he? 

“I don’t usually sleep with people on the second date,” Klaus said. 

“Oh,” Dave said. “I was just asking you up for a drink not...I mean not that I don’t want to uh, I’m trying to say that you don’t owe me anything.” 

“I usually sleep with people on the first date. Or...well really without a date attached,” Klaus said.

“Oh,” Dave repeated. 

“And I don’t think I’ve ever slept with someone when I’m completely sober,” Klaus said. “I mean, I use protection. And when I haven’t I’ve gotten tested. So you shouldn’t worry about—I mean I’d understand if you were worried. I wouldn’t be offended because I’ve had a lot of sex and some of it was for money or drugs so safety wasn’t always the top priority for people but I’m fine and we would be safe and Jesus...” He looked down at his hands. _Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye. Good—_

“Klaus _._ ” Dave put his hand over his. 

“I’m sorry,” Klaus breathed. 

“Don’t be,” Dave said. Klaus felt stupid, so he kissed him. His skin was warm everywhere he touched him. 

Dave pulled back. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Klaus said, though the screaming was getting louder. 

“We don’t have to sleep together,” Dave said, seriously. 

“Tonight?”

“Ever,” Dave said. “We don’t have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with.”

Klaus laughed, high and loud and foreign to himself. “Is that what they teach you in social work school?”

“No, I mean yes but I thought it was more of a basic human decency thing. I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Klaus laughed again, feeling a little unhinged. “If you don’t want to fuck me, Dave, you should just say so,” he said. 

Dave put his head in his hands. “Christ, Klaus now I’m just getting angry.”

Klaus blinked. Dave didn’t seem like he had much of a temper. “I tend to do that,” he said. 

“Not at you. I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at whoever told you your comfort didn’t matter. I hate the way you talk about yourself.” 

Klaus was getting a headache. It was radiating at his temples and he worried that soon it would hurt too much to move and he’d be stuck with Dave’s rotten kindness. There was a man with cloudy, rotting eyes and his brain coming out through his skull just screaming at him. 

“It’s loud in here,” he muttered, and Dave’s expression changed. 

“Is it loud all the time, Klaus?”

“Yes,” he whispered, and he sunk into Dave’s arms. Dave hugged him. He felt his warm hands smoothing the hair out of his face. He kissed the top of his head and Klaus felt like a kid again, when he’d sneak into Allison’s room and cry into her shoulder or (rarely) into Five’s where Five would grumble sleepily and begrudgingly scoot over to make room for Klaus to curl up on one side of the stiff twin mattress. 

“How can I help?” Dave said. Klaus thought about raiding Dave’s medicine cabinet: a handful of ibuprofen, a bottle of cough syrup that never went down easy, maybe he had something stronger, a leftover prescription? He’d gotten high on much less. 

“When it passes I can go,” Klaus said. He was getting a rash on his neck. Not sexy. 

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I could put on a movie or we could just go to bed. I can take the couch if you’d rather?”

Klaus lay on his side a with his head in Dave’s lap and his knees curled to his chest. “If you keep being so nice to me I’m going to get used to it,” he said. 

“Good,” Dave said. 

They went to bed. Klaus borrowed a pair of Dave’s sweatpants, which were big on him but soft. They slept chest to chest, with Dave’s arms curled around Klaus’s waist. The touch made things quieter. He told Dave as much, which served to bring him even closer, hands roaming the small of Klaus’s back, breath hot on the side of his face. 

“When I was little,” Dave muttered, when they’d been silent for awhile, just listening to each other’s breathing. “My parents didn’t really hug us. My siblings didn’t either. Or my friends. And I was always kind of embarrassingly tactile,” he said. 

“Oh, I’m sure I’ve got you beat there too,” Klaus said, pulling him close. He trailed kisses down Dave’s jaw.

“ _Klaus_ ,” Dave said, but it was different from every other time he’d said it. There was a desperation in it, a longing he hadn’t expected. 

“What? Too much?” He said, thickly. 

“No, not too much,” Dave said. “You’re just...” 

“Aggravating?”

“Gorgeous.” 

“Oh,” Klaus said. 

Dave kept surprising him. They went picnicking in the park before Dave’s first class: a tin of cookies, some cheese and crackers and grapes, sparkling water in lieu of champagne. Klaus brought him coffee before his shifts at the university admissions office (and the bookstore, his job on the weekends). Klaus even let him in the Academy when no one else was home. He showed him his room, mostly unchanged from his teenage years. Dave saw the posters on his walls and stacks of CDs, all the hiding places now emptied of their stashes, his closet full of old uniforms and the odd jumble of things that made up his wardrobe. 

And he cooked for him. 

“Are you sure I can’t help with anything?” Klaus said. He was perched on Dave’s cousin’s kitchen counter, swinging his feet back and forth. Dave was glazing salmon fillets with a delicious looking mixture of oil and herbs. He’d already put Brussels sprouts in the oven and was warming up some bread. From Klaus’s point of view, things were going swimmingly, but Dave was frazzled and sweating a lot. 

“I’m fine. I’m just going to wrap these in some foil and put them in when the sprouts are done,” he said. “Do you want a drink? I mean not a _drink_ drink but a drink? I’ve got ginger ale?”

Klaus raised an eyebrow. “It sounds like you need a _drink_ drink. I’ll have that ginger ale and find you a beer.”

Dave flushed. “No, I couldn’t,” he said. 

Klaus rolled his eyes and slipped off the counter. “Oh, come on I promise I won’t try to steal a sip,” he said, extracting a can of ginger ale and bottle of beer from the fridge. He slipped an arm around Dave’s waist and kissed the side of his face. “You worry so much,” he said. 

“I worry the right amount,” Dave said, leaning into the touch. He opened his beer and took a long sip. Klaus’s mouth was watering. “I’m going to put on some music,” Dave said, hurrying out of the kitchen. 

Klaus leaned on the fridge and frowned. Dave was jumpy. He was usually more forthcoming with his feelings. They’d gone through all the family stuff: how Klaus always felt like the burden among his siblings, how the only people who still talked to Dave were his cousin and his sister who lived in Paris, the rest of his family feeling like his coming out was some cosmic betrayal of the David Katz they’d known, how there was a steadily growing chasm between Klaus and Ben that he didn’t know how to fix. Of course, there were plenty of things they hadn’t gotten out of each other yet. Klaus put on a false confidence when he and Dave finally slept together, a veil he knew Dave could see through but was too polite to mention. And on bad days Dave wore a set of dog tags around his neck. Klaus never got close enough to see whose name was on them. Dave hadn’t said anything about being in the army. The days he wore them he was a little quieter and fidgety. 

They didn’t talk about how Dave worked himself to the bone at school, his internship at the VA, and his part time gigs that kept him afloat. They didn’t talk about how Klaus couldn’t sleep more than four hours a night. These seemed like things they’d get to in time, but Klaus was perpetually worried he’d get dumped before then. They hadn’t even properly labeled their relationship.

“Dance with me.”

Dave was back, smile blossoming on his face. He was wearing an old band t-shirt and a flannel. Klaus was considering stealing the t-shirt when he had the chance. It was soft, and smelled like Dave. Klaus folded himself into Dave’s arms and they swayed. He leaned his head on Dave’s shoulder. 

“I should have met you a long time ago,” Klaus said. Dave was playing his old music, pop songs from the 60s. 

“I don’t know if you’d have liked me a long time ago,” Dave said. And Klaus scoffed. 

“Why not?” 

“I had braces in college.”

“Cute!”

“You can say that because you didn’t see them,” Dave said. 

“Well if I’d taken a spontaneous road trip to crash a Wisconsin frat party in what...2013? Then I bet I’d have thought they were cute,” Klaus said. 

“I didn’t go to frat parties,” Dave said. 

“Oh, they had the best drugs at frat parties, cheap. And I’d wear a dress to confuse the boys. A dress with a silt. Lots of ambiguous skin. I’d bum some Adderall off of someone, find a group of girls smoking weed on the porch and gossip a little,” Klaus said. “You would have found me very sexy, I think,” he said matter of factly. He looked good in 2013, not as pale as he did later, fewer track marks on his arms. 

“I find you sexy now,” Dave said. 

Klaus kissed him. “Is it hard to make out with braces?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Dave said. 

“Well then, I guess we really should have met years ago, huh?”

Dave hummed contentedly. “Let me go. I need to put the salmon in.”

_Every night I hope and pray  
A dream lover will come my way  
A girl to hold in my arms  
And know the magic of her charms  
'Cause I want  
A girl  
To call  
My own  
I want a dream lover  
So I don't have to dream alone_

“What is this song?” Klaus laughed. “What are all these 60s songs?”

“I like them,” Dave said, pulling out the Brussels sprouts. “They’re simple. With their I love you’s and be mine’s.” 

“I didn’t realize you liked simple,” Klaus said. 

_Dream lover, where are you  
With a love, oh, so true  
And the hand that I can hold  
To feel you near as I grow old  
'Cause I want  
A girl  
To call  
My own  
I want a dream lover  
So I don't have to dream alone_

“Sometimes,” he said. “This song reminds me of you.”

Klaus laughed again, but he was getting flustered. “What, like I’m not real?”

“No, like you’re...listen Klaus can I talk to you for a minute?”

“We’re talking right now, Dave,” Klaus said, but there was a sinking feeling in his chest. 

“I know. I just—Klaus are you seeing anyone else?” Dave said. He met his eyes. 

“Seeing anyone else? Davey when would I even have time to see anyone else? I’m always with you.”

Dave’s expression softened. “It would be okay if you were. We never said we were exclusive.”

God, Klaus had had this conversation too many times, even with people who had made something out to be exclusive and then gaslit him when he caught them cheating. This conversation was part of the reason he’d wanted to give up on dating. 

“You want to see other people?” He said, trying to keep his voice even. 

“No! Shit, I’m fucking this up,” Dave said. The 60s song was still playing and it was funny to hear Dave curse over it. 

_Dream lover, until then  
I'll go to sleep and dream again  
That's the only thing to do  
Till all my lover's dreams come true  
'Cause I want  
A girl  
To call  
My own  
I want a dream lover  
So I don't have to dream alone_

“What are you saying?” Klaus asked. He crossed his arms over his chest and prepared for the worst. He’d gone over how this would go in his head too many times. Ben had told him to relax but Ben didn’t know the extent of this. Klaus had always been infatuated easily. He’d been obsessed, consumed, sometimes with people he barely knew. And feeling so hard and fast made rejection hurt more. 

Dave sucked in a breath. “Will you be my boyfriend?” 

“Christ, of course I will,” he said. It felt like all the air had been knocked out of his lungs. “I thought you were breaking up with me.” 

“No,” Dave’s eyebrows shot up. “No, I just wanted to make sure you felt the same way about me that I do about you,” he said. 

“Which is?”

Dave rolled his eyes. “Don’t pretend you don’t know how crazy I am about you,” he said. 

“I’m not pretending,” Klaus said, smiling slowly. “How am I supposed to know you’re not some secret agent from the future, or the past for that matter? Or maybe you’re an alien,” he said. 

“Does that mean you don’t want salmon?” Dave said. “It could be poisoned, after all.”

“Well, I’ve had a good run,” Klaus said, shrugging. “Poisoned by alien secret agent boyfriend is a pretty good headline.”

“Albeit a little confusing,” Dave said. 

It was thrilling to call Dave his boyfriend. And it would hurt to call him his ex-boyfriend when this inevitably fizzled out, the voice at the back of Klaus’s head told him. Best to ignore the inevitable. That was how they’d stopped the apocalypse, after all. 

“I’ll take my chances,” Klaus said. 

***

“See, the good part of this is that I’m plenty used to talking to myself,” Jill said. She was playing solitaire, her legs crossed on the wooden chair by the window. This was their usual spot. Ben liked it because her eyes caught the light and they were far enough away from the other patrons that few people passed through him accidentally. “Although I guess I shouldn’t say there’s a good part of this. I’m not the one who’s dead.”

“I’m used to it,” Ben said. They’d been reading together for awhile, until Jen got tired of the book and set out cards so they could just talk awhile. 

“Klaus said he’d be here to interpret in a little bit. I’m sure he told you, but in case he didn’t. I thought that before then we might try by ourselves? As much as I like your brother I’d like to be able to talk to you when he isn’t here.”

Ben nodded. Klaus had been surprisingly good about helping them talk, to the point where Ben felt a little guilty about his initial resistance to the idea. He kept remembering just after he died, when the pain cut off and he felt himself floating out of his body. He remembered how scared he’d been at the funeral, watching his siblings cry, seeing the snow but not feeling cold, looking down at his casket. And he remembered the first time Klaus saw him. His expression was a twisted mixture of fear and joy. 

“I didn’t think it would be so soon,” Klaus had said. The others had gone inside. Ben could see Klaus shivering in his uniform. He hadn’t brought a coat. 

“Me neither,” he said, looking around at the other spirits that floated alongside him. “This is kind of distracting,” he said, gesturing around. 

Klaus laughed. “You’re telling me. Wait until we get to the mausoleum.”

Ben gritted his teeth. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m glad you’re here,” Klaus said. He sniffled, and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “The others...I don’t know if they’ll believe me, that you’re here. They miss you.”

“I know,” Ben said. 

“Sorry I’m the one you’re stuck with. If I were you I’d be my last choice,” Klaus said. He laughed again, but it came out choked. He pulled a flask out of his pocket. “Don’t tell Dad,” he said, taking a long swig. “I’ve been drinking all morning.”

“Klaus—“

“It’s a sad day, Ben. It’s your goddamn funeral. Let me grieve,” he said, harshly. He leaned against the house. Then launched forward, tipping forward onto his toes and nearly falling over. Ben reached out to steady him, instinctually, and shivered when his hand passed through Klaus’s elbow. It was a horrible, sinking feeling, like his body was made of some sort of bloody, congealed, rotting jelly and Klaus’s was concrete. 

“Are you okay?” Klaus asked. Presumably, the look on Ben’s face gave away the feeling. 

“Yeah,” he breathed. “This is just new.”

“Hey, one good thing is that vodka doesn’t seem to be working on you,” he said, reaching out to pat Ben’s chest but stopping inches away. 

“What do you mean?”

“When I’m drunk or high, they start to go away,” Klaus said, gesturing to the swarm of ghosts around them. “But not you.”

“I’m sure I can leave if you want me to,” Ben deadpanned. It was supposed to be a joke but the look on Klaus’s face was devastating. 

“Please don’t,” he said, crying in earnest now, not trying to hide it. He squatted down in the snow, shoulders shaking. “Please don’t leave me alone, Benny,” he sobbed. 

“I’m not going to leave,” he said. He wanted desperately to touch him, to give him a hug. Hugs had been so rare when he was alive.

Then he watched his brother drink enough vodka to pass out in the snow. He watched Vanya find him a couple hours later and help him inside as he babbled about seeing Ben. He’d said goodnight to Klaus and watched over him as he slept for the first time. He’d watched how Klaus tossed and turned. He’d sat with him through the nightmares, knowing that this was his new purpose. He didn’t want Klaus to die like he had. 

“Are you okay?” Jill said. “It suddenly got really cold and I thought it might be you, trying to tell me something.”

“I was just remembering something,” he said, though he knew she couldn’t hear him. 

Jill looked around, trying to find his eyes. “I thought maybe I’d put my hands out and you could try to touch them, if you want. What do you think?”

Ben thought about how crushing it felt to feel living skin, about how for years his siblings had walked through him, about how every time Klaus was high and lost his balance, Ben couldn’t reach out and stabilize him. He just had to watch him fall over and over again. 

Jill put her hands out and Ben, slow as molasses, reached out too. 

“Now don’t be disappointed if it doesn’t work,” she said. He smiled. 

“You don’t have to worry so much, at least not about my feelings,” he muttered. He closed his eyes and touched her hands, bracing himself for the nauseating feeling. 

“Holy shit,” Jill said. Ben opened his eyes. His hands, just his hands, were glowing blue. And by the look on her face she could see them. “Holy shit,” she repeated. 

“You can feel my hands,” he said. 

“I can feel your hands,” she said. She linked their fingers, gently and then his hands disappeared. 

Ben sighed. 

“That was incredible,” Jill said. “I’m so happy I could kiss you...I mean I couldn’t but you know what I mean. I felt you!” 

Ben nodded. It had felt electric. His fingertips tingled where she’d touched. He thought of the countless times he and Klaus had tried the same exercise, how difficult it had been even when Klaus got sober. It was hard for him to manifest Ben unless the situation was dire. And Jill had done it so easily. 

“Ben? You still there?” Jill said. 

“Yeah,” he said. 

Something was happening. 

***

Five sat in the lobby and struggled to keep still. His meeting was at 12:15 but he’d gotten there at 11:45. The English department’s secretary kept eyeing him, but thankfully had said nothing to indicate he should leave. 

Professor Hawkins came out of her office, glanced around the room until she saw him, and then waved her hand to usher him into her office. 

“Mr. Hargreeves,” she said, as he took a seat in one of her plush office chairs. “Thank you for meeting with me.”

Five picked at the skin on his thumb. “Of course. I don’t mean to be rude, professor, but why exactly are we meeting?”

She smiled. “You’ve not been by my office hours in a while, Five,” she said. 

Professor Hawkins was his poetry professor. He liked her, the straightforward way she said things, the detailed feedback she gave on his assignments, the peculiar way she could see through people. 

“I apologize,” he said. “I’ve been busy with other coursework.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I’m not pointing it out to shame you. I just thought you might need some guidance. You seem to be struggling with the work. You haven’t been participating as much as usual.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, flushing. Five wasn’t used to being told he was struggling. Usually when Dad told him off it was for being too ambitious. 

“Five, why did you decide to study poetry?”

He smirked. “An unusual choice given my history, I know.” He sucked in a breath. “I like the simplicity and complexity. I like that it’s expression without the directness of...I don’t know, of talking to people.”

She laughed. “So it’s escapism?”

He squirmed. “No. I wanted a challenge.”

“So you don’t consider yourself a poet?” She said. 

He shrugged. Poets usually knew who they were. 

“You’re smart. You write well. You should have some confidence in yourself.”

“I’ll participate more, professor. I’m sorry,” he said. 

“I’m not worried about your class performance. I just worry you’re putting unnecessary pressure on yourself.”

“I’m fine,” he said. 

After the meeting, he teleported home. 

“Jesus Christ,” Klaus said. He was in the kitchen. Five had intended to end up in his bedroom. 

“Sorry,” Five said. “I’m a little off my focus today.”

Klaus sipped his tea. He was sitting at the kitchen table. 

“Do tell. You’re outfit doesn’t seem off. I’d even say there’s discernible style there. Who dressed you?”

Five frowned. He was kind of trying something. He had dress pants, a belt, and a sweater with a collared shirt underneath it. His shoes were shiny. 

“I did,” he said. “But that’s the whole problem isn’t it?”

“What problem? I complimented you,” Klaus said.

Five took a seat in front of his brother. Klaus was a good person to be here because Five thought he was the least likely to lie to spare his feelings. 

“Do you remember what I was like when we were growing up?” He asked. 

Klaus blinked. “Before you disappeared? I guess. You weren’t all that different, less bossy maybe. Why?”

Five shifted from foot to foot. “But I am different,” he said. “I was gone a long time.”

Klaus frowned. “I know,” he said. “Five, is there something you’re not telling me?”

Five sat down. “I want you to tell you who I am, because I can’t remember. I don’t know what I like or what I’m supposed to wear to feel...I don’t know. To feel like myself. We’ve had to write poems about ourselves in my class and mine all end up about the apocalypse,” he said. 

Klaus was quiet, so quiet Five thought he might not have heard him. Maybe Ben was there, talking over him. 

“It’s not a big deal,” Five said, suddenly self-conscious beyond words. 

“Don’t do that,” Klaus said. “We both know it is.”

Five swallowed. “You just always seem to know who you are,” he said. Klaus was a presence, even when they were kids, even before the drugs that made his tongue looser and his movements fluid. There was something confident in him. 

“I’m a good actor,” Klaus said. He leaned forward on his elbows and took Five’s hands. He let him, reluctantly. 

“You don’t have to be the person you were before the almost apocalypse,” Klaus said. “You don’t have to be who Dad told you to be. You don’t have to be who anyone tells you to be. And you don’t have to know,” he said. 

“Know what?” Five said. 

“Who you are. You’re young—I know you’re old but you’re young in my book. You’re young to this world. And most people don’t know who they are. They’re just faking it until something sticks.”

Five nodded. Klaus’s hands were warm and he was overcome. “Don’t start acting like my big brother,” he said, meeting Klaus’s eyes. “Thanks,” he added. 

“Anytime. And if clothes are an issue I’m always happy to go shopping with you. I’m banned from a few places—shoplifting and the like, but I know some good thrift shops. And my closet’s always available.”

Five rolled his eyes. “I think I’m good on skirts and glitter.”

“Hey,” Klaus said, sipping his tea. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”

Five supposed that was a fair point. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me, those of y’all who are here. Yes, I dress like Five. Yes, I love 60s music. Did you really expect this fic not to be ridiculously self-indulgent? Lmk what you think. I thrive on feedback. Another couple chapters (at least) should be coming. Thanks. :)


	3. Hard on Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five goes to a college party. Vanya befriends Sissy for real this time. And Klaus clings, precariously, to sobriety.

Having Dave spend the night still felt like something forbidden, like Dad would storm in at any moment and demand to know what exactly Number Four thought he was doing. Luther and Five hadn’t batted an eye. He’d told them Dave was staying the night when Dave got there. They were watching a movie in the living room. Five was in pajamas, eating a bowl of cereal. 

“You’ve got permission from your parents, then?” Dave said, cheekily. 

Klaus rolled his eyes. “Do you want to come upstairs or not?” he said. Dave needed some place to stay for the night, as his cousin had politely urged him to stay out of the house while he and his girlfriend were there. He did this often, and before Dave met Klaus he’d go to his office at school and work, or a bookstore and browse the stacks. 

“I was kind of aimless, really. Whenever he wanted me out of the house,” he’d said. The city was new to him and he could only kill time for so long.

“I’d never kick you out like that,” Klaus said, seriously. 

“I know,” Dave said. 

Klaus took him upstairs and down the hallway to his bedroom. 

“We could watch a movie,” Klaus said, wringing his hands nervously. “Or order something to eat? I’ve got some tea downstairs if you want a cup.”

He took in Dave’s knowing look. “I don’t have guests a lot,” Klaus said. “I didn’t even have sleep overs as a kid.” Dave had seen Klaus’s room before, but somehow this was more nerve wracking. He’d be free to inspect every little detail of Klaus’s life here. And Klaus had trouble separating the things he could see from what everyone else could. 

Dave could see the laundry heaped in his hamper, but not the pale little girl with blood under her fingernails crouched beside it. He could see the incense trailing smoke in its burner, but not the wailing chorus of shadows above it. His room was messy, but it was a lot messier to him. 

“I’m sorry about the mess,” he said, gesturing to the room and then himself. Dave looked around, then bridged the gap between them and kissed him. Klaus still got a little breathless when he did that, even though they’d been together three months now. 

“Don’t be sorry. You’re saving me, giving me shelter in my time of need,” Dave said. He set his overnight bag in a free corner and took a seat on Klaus’s twin bed. 

It was lumpy and two small for the both of them. He’d had the same mattress his entire life. That seemed profoundly sad, somehow, when Dave was sitting on his bed. 

“I was thinking Indian food and we could start that show you wanted to watch,” Dave said. The spirits under the bed were getting riled up, twisting around his shoes. “Klaus?”

“Yeah,” he said, startled. “That sounds good.”

“You okay?” Dave asked, in the gentle way he always did. 

“Yeah, I just—god I really want to get high,” he said. It helped to admit it out loud, to let the desire linger for a moment before Dave or someone else coaxed him back to reason. 

Dave nodded, sagely. “How about tea? And a kiss.” 

Klaus shrugged. “That could help.”

Dave scooted over and Klaus sprawled himself out on the bed, curling around Dave like a cat. 

Dave was warm, and his presence was endlessly comforting. He ran his fingers through Klaus’s hair. “I’m so proud of you, baby,” Dave said. 

No one else he’d been with had said things like that. Granted, he didn’t do things worthy of pride. Except maybe the time he’d given a mob boss a lap dance while blackout drunk, allegedly. Dave said nice things all the time. He said all the latte art he attempted was beautiful, even when his hands were shaking when he tried to make the heart or leaf or whatever and it turned out lopsided. He said Klaus was beautiful too and in rare moments Klaus let him say it without replying with something self-deprecating. 

“I love you,” Klaus muttered. He hadn’t said it before. He didn’t expect Dave to say it back. He never expected anyone to, even when they did. People did. And he did too. When he was high he loved everyone. And people said they loved him back, usually to get something out of him or get him to leave them alone. It didn’t make it less crushing to realize they didn’t mean it. 

Dave was quiet. And it was crushing. “You don’t have to say anything. I’m being stupid,” Klaus choked. 

“Stop it. I love you too,” Dave said, leaning over to look at him. “I love you so much. Sometimes I think I was born to love you.”

“Now you’re just being hyperbolic,” Klaus said, but tears were pricking at his eyes.

Dave wrapped him up in a hug. “You know if you told 13-year-old me that Klaus Hargreeves would be in love with me I probably would have fainted.”

Klaus laughed. He held Dave closer, clinging for dear life on the narrow bed. “Can we just stay like this forever?” He whispered. 

“Sure we can...oh holy shit,” Dave said. The holy shit was at the entrance of Five, who had just blinked into the room, in lieu of knocking. 

“Christ, Five! I thought we talked about this?” Klaus said. 

Five blinked, staring at the two of them. “I forgot you had a boy over. I need your help.”

“Oh, I’m a boy now?” Dave said, and Klaus swatted him. 

“What do you need help with?” Klaus said, detangling himself from Dave. 

“I need an outfit for tonight,” Five said. He glanced at Dave self-consciously. “My friend invited me to her girlfriend’s band’s show.”

“You’ve got friends now, Fivey?” Klaus grinned. 

Five crossed his arms and frowned. Klaus looked him up and down. Five had gotten taller. It was sort of thrilling to see how he would have grown up, if he had been with them the first time. Five’s hair was growing out too, falling past his ears in thick waves.

“Well, sort of. And they’re cool, so I—um I don’t know what I should wear. Sorry Dave, may I borrow my brother for a moment?” 

“Sure,” Dave said. He kissed Klaus and got up. “I’ll make us some tea.”

Five raised an eyebrow as Dave left the room. “He’s quite accommodating, isn’t he?” he said.

“I’ve just told him I love him,” Klaus said. “So you’ve picked a truly wonderful time to be in need of my help.”

Five’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry. It won’t be long. I can leave if you—“

“Stop it. I just wanted someone to tell,” Klaus said. He got up and opened his closet. “Now what exactly are we looking for?”

Five brought his own pair of pants, as Klaus’s would hardly fit him. They were dark, wide legged jeans that, frankly, looked great on him. After some discussion, the creation of a massive pile of shirts and jackets on Klaus’s bed, and an argument about accessories, Five was standing in front of Klaus’s mirror in an approximation of the completed outfit. 

It was a dark gray turtleneck tucked into the pants, black belt, and (the pièce de résistance), a mustard colored blazer that Five had selected himself. 

“What do you think?” Five said, nervously. He smoothed his hair back, then fidgeted with it when Klaus didn’t respond. 

“Here,” Klaus said, taking the tangle of his brother’s hair and combing it with his fingers. 

“What are you doing?” Five said, immediately stiffening. 

“Just a little French braid, to keep it out of your eyes,” he said. He left the bulk of it down and braided the troublesome section that kept flopping in Five’s face. “There,” he said. “What do you think?”

Five had an odd expression on his face. He looked himself over slowly. Klaus thought he looked good, simultaneously older and younger than he was. He looked handsome and confident. 

“Thank you, Klaus,” he said at last. “I feel...uh, I feel good. Comfortable.”

Klaus grinned. “Let me do your eyeliner before you go. Just a little. You have such pretty eyes Five. It’ll make them really pop.”

Five rolled said pretty eyes and then said, shockingly: “Sure, but only if you paint my nails too.”

“Christ, is it Christmas? It feels like Christmas. Who are these new friends getting you out of your shell?”

Five shrugged. “It’s kind of a long story.”

***

Five didn’t usually spend much time on campus. He went to class and then back to the café or Academy directly after. He didn’t socialize with his classmates beyond the demands of coursework. It wasn’t as if they could relate to each other. 

So the one time he stopped by a campus building for lunch—he had class in half an hour and no time to go back home—he was surprised when someone sat down across from him. 

“You’re Five Hargreeves, aren’t you?” The woman leaned in to peer at him through the square frames of her glasses. 

“Um, yes,” he said, cautiously. With the narrow avoidance of the apocalypse, came a fair bit of press. Though Vanya didn’t hurt anyone, per say, she did scare some and incite a fair bit of property damage as her siblings were calming her down. The incident thrust the Umbrella Academy back into the news, and consequently made the public aware of Five’s return. They’d all done interviews giving an abridged version of what had happened, and the story had quickly faded. Failed apocalypses weren’t as thrilling as successful ones. In any case, sometimes people recognized Five, and they tended to have opinions on him. 

“I’m June,” she said. “June Evans. You’re in the English department, right? Poetry?”

Five looked around. “How did you know that?” 

She laughed. “So paranoid, I suppose I should’ve expected that given the way you were brought up. No offense,” she added. 

He looked her up and down: the glasses, untidy bangs, and nose ring. “None taken,” he said. 

“I’m a junior. I’m in the department too. I’m a poet,” she said. “I was surprised when I found out you went here.”

Five smirked. “I think everyone was.”

“Are you a poet?” She asked. 

“No,” Five said. “I mean...I’m not a good poet.”

She assessed him carefully, in a way that made him squirm. He nearly teleported himself out of the conversation. 

“I don’t mean to be rude,” he said. “But was there something you needed? 

“You know I read your sister’s book. It was good, well parts of it were. I know it’s probably blasphemous to say so, at least to you, you’re her brother. But she spoke highly of you so maybe it’s different. I think it was best in the chapters where she stopped worrying about the rest of you and just talked about how she felt growing up. Of course, I can’t really blame her for the more unflattering bits. It’s pretty clear she was gaslit her entire childhood. All in all I’d say it’s a pretty feminist. Or at least proto-feminist work,” she said. 

Five was staring. 

“Sorry, I like memoir. Or at least I like studying the ways people write about themselves. That’s why I was interested in whether or not you’re a poet.”

“Well, I—“

“And in any case I was just curious. I mean I know it’s not my place but I was wondering if you were pursuing a bachelor’s degree strictly for the academics or if you intended to do all of the other things college promises.”

“Promises?” he sputtered, uselessly. 

“You know, the extra curriculars, the events, the parties,” she said. 

“I’m sort of hindered by the teenage body,” he said. Though, in truth he hadn’t thought about any of that. 

“But you didn’t do any of it the first time around, did you?”

“No, but—“

“Let me take you out,” she said. 

“Excuse me?” he said, face flushing. 

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, I know we don’t _know_ each other but I figure you’re not the friend making type so I’m here to give you a friendly nudge. And I think you’re lying, by the way, about being a bad poet. My girlfriend’s having a house party tonight, just a few people. We’re just gonna get stoned and talk, maybe watch TV. You don’t have to smoke, obviously, you can just give me your life story and maybe teleport around to impress everyone and in exchange I can give you some new connections,” she said. 

“Did you have that whole speech saved up in case you spotted me?” he said. 

“You’re a hard man to run into,” she said, seriously. 

“So you admit it?”

She pulled her hair into a bun and stretched out, arms first on the table.

“Oh come on, I want a famous friend. Everyone wants a famous friend.”

Five hadn’t gotten along with many people growing up. Vanya was the only one of his siblings he could reasonably call a friend. And now...well he was trying with his siblings, but with everyone else he was sort of at a loss. Delores always said he should get out more. 

“Fine,” he said. 

“Great,” she said. She took a notebook out of her backpack and wrote something on it. “Here’s my number and the address. Party starts at 8,” she said. 

Five’s hands were shaking when he got there. It was stupid for him to be scared. He was a trained assassin. He’d saved the world. This was nothing. He knocked and then stuffed his hands in his pockets. 

June answered the door. Five could see the lights behind her, string lights along the ceiling and a warm looking lamp on an end table. Then he saw the couch crowded with people and the coffee table and patterned rug over an old wooden floor. 

“You came!” she said, ushering him inside. “Do you want a drink?” she asked. She turned to the people assembled in the living room. “Guys, this is Five Hargreeves,” she said. They stared at him, wide eyed as he attempted a smile. “He studies poetry. You’re a freshman, right?”

“Right,” he said. The room was hot and he felt his face flushing. 

She pointed to the people on the couch in order and introduced them. “That’s Alex, he’s a junior history major,” she said, pointing to the pale, blonde boy gaping at him. He was wearing a thick gray sweater and had his legs crossed on the couch. 

“Nice to meet you,” he said. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t think June was serious.”

Five shrugged. “Neither did I.” 

“And Gwen. She’s a sophomore doing poetry as well. I think you’ve had a class together.”

Five remembered. He wasn’t good with faces, but Gwen had fluorescent pink hair and an aggressive splattering of freckles on her face. 

“We did,” he said. “Hi.”

She was sitting on the rug and not the couch and leaned forward over the coffee table when she spoke. “You know, people used to talk about you after class. They’d speculate about when you were gonna snap and kill someone or like make bets about how much coffee you’d had before class. I didn’t,” she added. “But people did. I always wished you’d overhear and rip them to shreds.” She shrugged. “ C’est la vie.”

Gwen grinned and Five remembered the other thing he’d noticed about her. She had braces with brightly colored rubber bands on them. 

“I doubt I’d have ripped them to shreds,” he said. “Lots of the things people say about me are true.” That was another reason he’d avoided people: reasonable questions to which he had unreasonable answers. 

“Touché,” Gwen said. 

“This is Harry,” June continued. “He graduated last year, English lit major. He works at the co-op so he brought us fancy beer.”

“Which you’re welcome to, Mr. Hargreeves,” Harry said. He had dark hair and long limbs, like Klaus. 

“And this is my girlfriend, Betsy,” June said. Betsy actually got up and shook his hand. She was tall and had a buzz cut. “She’s a senior, in arts admin.” 

“Everyone here owes June five bucks except for me,” she said. 

“You thought I’d come?”

“No, I just don’t bet against my girlfriend.”

June got him a beer. He stood awkwardly in the doorway with it, looking around at the kitchen decor. There was a sign that said Eat, Pray, Love with the pray crossed out and Vibe written in its place. There was a chalkboard with a grocery list and cartoon frog. There was a crystal hanging in the window that reflected street lights. 

“So how does this work?” he said. She was making herself a mixed drink, something with rum and ginger ale. 

“Oh, okay,” she said. She looked him up and down again and he felt self-conscious. He was wearing a sweater vest and button down, with cuffed khakis. Allison called it his most “old man” outfit. 

“Well my friends are big talkers, so you could just let them take the lead. Though, I’m sure we all want to know about you.”

“Me?”

She rolled her eyes. “Your family’s got that coffee shop on third right? How did that happen?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. It was Vanya’s idea.”

June looked at him pointedly. “Drink your beer. You’ll be a better storyteller when you’re tipsy.”

Alex and Gwen quickly ushered him into a conversation, bantering steadily as he drank his beer as quickly as he could and answered the odd question thrown his way. 

“So this asshole—Eddie, I think his name was—pushes me into the mosh pit and I think my camera’s toast, like totally toast, this $200 camera that I’m renting from the university and I’m probably gonna be thrown out of school or whatever. So I just burst into tears and I’m trying to get up but it’s dark and I can’t see and people keep bumping into me and then I feel someone pulling me up and thank god, it’s Betsy,” June said. She took a sip of her drink. Betsy was across from her, grinning and packing a bowl. 

Five was sitting cross legged on the carpet with her. She was gesturing wildly and he was following her hand motions more than the story. He was on his second beer. 

“Was the camera okay?” he asked. 

“Yes, Christ, if it wasn’t I don’t know what I would have done. But Betsy fucking deadlifts me and hauls me out the back. I lost the lens cap and got yelled at over it. But I met Betsy, so it was worth it,” she said, dreamily.

“You’re such a sap,” Betsy said. 

“You could’ve just teleported out of there though, right Mr. Hargreeves?” Harry said to Five. He’d told him he could just call him Five but he kept forgetting. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I mean if I had the energy and mind to do it. Spatial jumps get hard when I’m tired or stressed.”

“What about when you’re high?” Gwen said. She had her head in Alex’s lap. They were sprawled across the couch, already drunker than the rest of them. 

“I’ve never tried,” he said. He didn’t want to say so directly, but he’d never been high. Klaus had offered to share joints with him, smoking out the attic window with a wild look on his face, but he’d always turned him down, sometimes more harshly than he’d meant to. It seemed unfair, somehow, to try now. And Five had a hard enough time understanding his own brain without impairing it. He tensed up, instinctively. 

“Whoa,” June said. “You don’t have to smoke. You know that right? It’s not a rite of passage.”

“You’re a time traveling superhero I don’t think you need any rites of passage,” Alex added. 

“No, I—I want to try I just don’t know how,” Five said, suddenly determined, if only to feel the way his brother had for most of his life. That had always been hard to understand. Klaus had this desperate urge to escape himself. Five figured the ghosts had been the reason. He’d figured that out a long time ago; it had taken some of his siblings longer to put together that Klaus wasn’t destroying himself to be a nuisance. If you numbed yourself to everything you could lose the noise, but you could also lose your sense of self. 

“Here,” Betsy said, handing over the bowl. “I’ll light it and you just breathe in and hold it before you let out. June, get him some water. You’re probably going to cough. It’s okay. We all do.” 

With her help he took a hit, then another one, then nearly coughed up a lung while she passed it to June and the others. It came back around to him and he lit it himself this time. 

“How do you feel?” June asked. Five felt like he was floating. His head was moving with a fluid ease that seemed to be independent of his joints. They were all looking at him. He grinned, suddenly enraptured with everything in the room, with the way June was reaching out now to take his hands in hers. 

“I feel good,” he said. She laughed.

“Good, you scared me for a second. Some people get really paranoid and I was worried you might be one of those people.”

“I’m always paranoid,” he said. He got up. They were all still staring at him, in anticipation. 

“Try it!” Gwen said. “Try to get to the couch.” She pushed Alex over so there was space.

“Okay,” he said, and tried. Suddenly he was across the room, pressed close to Gwen on the couch. Everyone cheered.

“Your sweater vest is on backwards,” Gwen said. He looked down. She was right. 

“That’s never happened before,” he said, meeting her eyes. Gwen’s eyes were watering. 

“Are you—?”

“Can I give you a hug, Five?” she asked. A few tears slipped down her cheeks. Her pink hair looked even pinker now, somehow. 

“Um...yeah, sure, okay,” he said, and she pulled him into the warmth of her chest. He could feel all his limbs in a way he never could ordinarily. He felt oddly grounded in his body, the body he usually hated so much that looking at himself in a mirror stung like prodding a fresh wound. 

“I’m just happy to be here for this,” she said. “You’re nicer than I thought you’d be.” 

“I’m nicer than I thought I’d be too,” he said.

Betsy put on a movie that everyone talked over. Gwen and Alex snuck off to the kitchen to make more drinks and some popcorn. He’d gathered that they were dating, purely by the amount of giggling in the kitchen and drunken dancing when they came back. 

Five stayed on the couch, warm and dazed and hanging on every word June was saying. She was talking about poetry, analyzing Dickinson punctuation for a paper she had to write the next day. He wondered if this was what it would’ve been like to be normal, to make friends, to stay up late, to spend the day studying and nursing a hangover. Dad didn’t have friends, so neither did his children. 

Somewhere around midnight June offered him her hand and pulled him up off the couch. “Coffee?” she said. He nodded. Harry had brought out Uno and they were trying to clear the table enough to play. 

She got out the coffee filters and he leaned against the counter. “Do you want to get some fresh air while we wait for it?” she said, shrugging her shoulder in the direction of the screen door that led to the backyard. 

“Okay, he said. He was coming down now, but Betsy had offered to pack another bowl, so he had the option of going home with the same floaty, boneless feeling from earlier. 

They stepped out onto the back deck and Five shivered, looking up at the stars. 

“Thanks for having me,” he said. It seemed a good time to say it. 

She laughed. “You have no idea how excited they all were. Of course, they also thought I was lying.” 

He was still staring at the sky, at its vastness. The sky had always been comforting when he was alone. He imagined his family looking up at the same sky he was, in a different time. 

“Look,” June said. “I’m just going to say it.” He looked over at her. Her face was flushed, though maybe it wasn’t emotion, only the cold. 

“Say what?” he said. 

“I’m sorry you went through everything you went through,” she said, and she looked at him so seriously he nearly laughed. 

“It was my fault, anyway,” he said, feeling suddenly small and out of control. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I was the one who wanted to time travel. Dad said I wasn’t ready but I did it anyway.”

“You were 13,” she said. 

“And I’m still a teenager, thanks to all this,” he said. He laughed, but it sounded forced, even to himself. “The only good that came out of it is that I could get back here to save everyone. But I’m not vain enough to think I’m a hero. I just fucked up...and then fought to fix it.”

“Five—“

“Don’t try to make me feel better,” he said, harshly. His voice was breaking. 

“Why not?” she said. He crossed his arms over his chest. His sweater vest was still on backwards. 

“I don’t know,” he said. 

“You’re really hard on yourself,” she said. 

“Dad’s dead. Someone has to be,” he said. He was shivering now. God, this body was so flimsy, so easy to bruise. 

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” she said. 

“You didn’t upset me,” he said. 

She sighed. The coffee was probably done but neither of them made to move.

“I think you’d be a good poet,” she said. 

“Maybe,” he said. 

Now, they’d been friends for a little over a month. June and Betsy came to the café from time to time, when he was working. They sat near the counter and talked to him while Diego gawked. He went to Gwen’s poetry reading. He sat by Alex and held his breath while she read, exhilarated with second hand nerves. He even stopped by the co-op and bought milk from Harry, who’d stopped calling him Mr. Hargreeves.

And he was writing poetry again. 

***

“Great, so you get to have cool college friends to get high with and I get to be sober and old,” Klaus said. “Hold still,” he added, finishing up Five’s eyeliner. 

“And in love. You get to be old and in love.”

“Do they even know how old you are?” Klaus said. 

“Does anyone really know how old I am?”

“Fair point,” Klaus said. “There, done. Are your nails dry?”

“Yeah, thanks,” he said. He looked at himself in the mirror again and only felt a momentary seizing in his chest. This was close to what he was supposed to look like. 

“Thanks,” he said again. It overwhelmed him, to see himself so close. 

“Any time brother, though maybe next time Dave won’t be over when you ask. 

He nodded. June and the others had only seen his old man clothes, the experimental outfits he’d put together that were comfortable and concealing. This wasn’t that. 

The venue put an X over each of his hands in black marker. Gwen waved when she saw him, and jumped up and down as he approached. 

“Five, oh my god,” she said. “You look so good.”

June looked him over and then wrapped him in a hug. She smelled like shampoo and liquor. “Did Klaus do the makeup? 

He nodded. 

“Betsy’s band is on in a few minutes,” Alex said. Betsy was the lead singer and guitarist. 

June pulled him closer to the stage and the others followed. She’d made a joke about him being too short to see and he’d told her that he was taller than Vanya. 

“I wrote something,” he told her, just before the set started. She leaned in close to hear him over the chattering crowd. He slipped a piece of paper into her hands. It was a poem:

_Sitting carefully in the space between the radiator and the wall,_

_My brother tries to stay warm without getting burned._

_But we’re all burned,_

_My lungs are, his hand, fumbling with a cigarette when everything shakes._

_It’s a tricky thing to press yourself against the wall,_

_To forget that the radiator is hot._

_But I’ve burned my tastebuds off and he, his fingerprints._

_So it’s numb._

_And I’ve forgotten how to speak, with all this cotton in my mouth._

_And he’s forgotten how to see himself as I do,_

_How to open his palms and trace each line,_

_Of hello and goodbye._

_He’s forgotten how to return to me,_

_Without burning._

It was nerve wracking to give her. Though, he was even more nervous to show it to Klaus. All of his poems were short and formless and confused, but he could only think about that so long because Betsy was onstage. The music was starting. June grinned, and put the poem in her pocket. 

***

Dave chose to sleep on the inside, his back pressed to the bedroom wall, while Klaus slept on the outside, curling in to Dave so much that he worried he was squishing him. They’d picked this arrangement because Klaus squirmed a lot and often couldn’t sleep. Laying on the outside made it easier for him to get up and wander without disturbing Dave. Now, though, neither of them were asleep. Dave’s eyes were closed but Klaus could tell. 

“Hey,” Klaus said. Dave’s arm was slung over his waist like a seat belt. 

“Yeah?” Dave said, sleepily. 

“Whose are these?” Klaus reached out and tugged gently on the dog tags that were still around Dave’s neck. He slept with them on, Klaus had noticed, even though the chain pressed into his skin and left little indents near his collarbone. 

“Oh,” Dave said. He clutched at the dog tags suddenly, grip tight around them. “They’re um...they’re a friend’s. They aren’t mine.”

“Someone from the VA?” he asked, voice a whisper in the dark. He couldn’t see Dave’s face, which was unnerving. 

“Um, Klaus?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever see people you know? I mean...” he hesitated. 

“You mean ghosts,” Klaus said, sourly. Dave, bless him, had thus far refrained from asking about the details of Klaus’s powers. Klaus wasn’t exactly ready to explain. 

It was bad enough when his migraines ruined dates. It was bad enough that he perpetually ran on too little sleep, and that he could feel his brain getting slower with exhaustion and the effects of years of drug abuse. He looked worse too; people had found him attractive when he was a junkie. Maybe it was the energy the drugs gave him. He wondered how Dave could look at him and say he was beautiful, so convincingly. Klaus just looked haggard, and old. God, he was getting old. It had snuck up on him. Dave didn’t look old. 

“I’m sorry. Never mind,” Dave said. 

“Sometimes,” Klaus said. “I mean Ben, of course, but when I was a kid the people who died on missions would follow us sometimes. And when we got older it started to add up,” he said. He felt nauseous. The truth was that the Academy was brimming with ghosts. “And when I lived on the street I’d see my friends who OD’ed or got murdered or froze to death or whatever. I saw a lot of people I knew on the street. Not for long, because I’d get high if I started to see anything.”

Dave was quiet, deathly quiet, so Klaus kept talking. 

“And they’d yell horrible shit at me too, the people who knew me especially. They’d tell me to kill myself, that I wasn’t worth the air I was breathing, that I deserved it when I was beaten or raped or whatever. Some of the friendliest people aren’t so friendly when they’re ghosts. It’s the brain rot I think. Something gets twisted. A lot of them aren’t themselves. Not Ben, luckily, but a lot of them.”

Dave was still quiet. 

“You’re evading my question, though. Are you looking for the owner of those dog tags? Are they dead? Because I’ll tell you that things are usually quiet around you. No one’s looking, if you know what I mean. No one’s begging to talk to you. I mean, not that I can tell right now. And in any case I don’t really do that. I’m not a medium. I’m sorry if that makes me an asshole,” he said. 

“Klaus, slow down,” Dave said. He sat up suddenly and put his head in his hands. 

“What?” Klaus said, fidgeting. He did that too; he couldn’t keep still, jumpy like an addict. 

“You glaze over things. You know that? Even when I think you’re opening up to me you leave things out or you say shit like it’s not a big deal when it is,” he said. His voice sounded strained. 

“I shouldn’t have asked about the dog tags. I get it,” Klaus said. 

“I’m not talking about the dog tags. I’m talking about the fact that there’s a chorus of voices telling you to kill yourself on a daily basis. You never told me that. You also glossed over _beaten and raped_. And you’ve been dealing with the ghosts since you were a kid.”

“You knew that,” Klaus said, uncomfortably. He liked Dave because he didn’t treat him like he was damaged, troubled maybe, but not pathetic and suffering. Even though Klaus _was_ pathetic and he was always suffering.

“Fine, I knew it,” Dave said. He sounded exasperated. Klaus still couldn’t see his face but he could see his shoulders shaking. 

“Are you—? Dave you’re crying.” Klaus draped himself over Dave’s back and curled his arms around his chest. 

“Of course I am, you big idiot,” Dave said. Klaus realized that this was what Dave looked like when he was frustrated, angry even. He was gentle even when he was mad. Painfully gentle. Klaus gritted his teeth. 

“You’re upset that I didn’t tell you how much my powers suck, and all the horrible situations I’ve gotten myself into trying to avoid dealing with them,” Klaus guessed.

“I’m upset that I can’t help you when you’re hurt, because I love you. And yes—it’s like you have this whole other life that I don’t know anything about,” Dave said. His hand found Klaus’s in the blankets and he looked at him. 

“I don’t want you to know anything about it,” Klaus whispered. 

“Well, okay,” Dave said, which Klaus hadn’t been expecting. He wiped his face with the back of his hand. Klaus shifted, hugging his chest like he could create some kind of armor. 

“Okay?” he said. 

“I don’t want you to know anything about Ian either, at least not right now. He’s—these are his,” Dave said, running his fingers over the lettering on the dog tag. 

“Okay,” Klaus said, reluctant but chastened. “Will you tell me when you’re ready?”

“Are you going to tell me about your past, ever?” Dave countered. 

“You wouldn’t have liked me. Well, maybe you would’ve thought I was hot, but you were in the closet so you would’ve been scared to look twice at me. I was a lot. I mean, I’m still a lot but in new, fun ways,” Klaus said. 

“I think you’re hot now,” Dave said. 

“You have to say that because you love me,” Klaus said. 

“I thought you were hot before I loved you,” Dave said. 

“Fine,” Klaus conceded. “I’m hot in a depressing way. I’m hot if you have a savior complex. You must just have a savior complex.”

Klaus sighed and fell back against his pillow.

“I’ll tell you about my past. I was selfish. I worried my family until they stopped caring. I was high all the time. I had lice like once a month and so many ear infections I’m a little deaf in my right ear. My lungs and liver are toast, you know that? And my wrist always hurts because my asshole boyfriend broke it when I stole 50 bucks from him. My past is dirty. That’s why I don’t talk about it,” Klaus said. 

“I’m sorry, I’m still stuck on the part where you implied that you’re not hot now,” Dave said. And Klaus laughed. Suddenly he couldn’t stop laughing. It was ridiculous. Being here with Dave was ridiculous. Dad would’ve killed him for being here like this, for admitting he was a disappointment. 

He laughed until he was out of breath. “I’m dirty,” he choked, finally. “I’m still dirty and when you figure that out you’ll leave me,” he said. 

“You’re not dirty. People aren’t dirty. They’re just people,” Dave said. 

“Another gem of wisdom from some social work class,” Klaus said. Tears were streaming down his face, but they were from the laughing. 

“Why do you attribute all my wisdom to my education? Can’t I just be wise?” Dave said. 

“You’ve struck a strange balance of humor and tragedy,” Klaus said, sniffling. 

“I’ve learned from the best,” he said. Dave lay down and Klaus rolled over so he was facing him. He met Dave’s eyes, looking for some indication that he was lying and not finding anything. He leaned in to him, resting his forehead in the crook of Dave’s neck. Dave’s hands were at Klaus’s sides, ghosting over his waist and ribs and then down to the small of his back. 

“I don’t deserve whatever it is you’re doing,” he breathed. Warmth was spreading though him and he squirmed, this time with desire.

“Sure you do,” Dave said. He kissed the top of his head. Klaus leaned his face up so they could kiss properly. 

“I don’t want to sleep,” Klaus said. 

“We don’t have to sleep.”

Klaus kissed him again. “We could desecrate my childhood bed,” he said. 

“Don’t tempt me,” Dave said. Klaus’s eyes had adjusted to the dark enough to see how Dave was looking at him. Klaus pressed himself closer to him. 

“Come on, if only to make my dad roll in his grave,” he said. Dave kissed his neck and Klaus closed his eyes.

“You really think I’m hot, don’t you?” he muttered. 

“Yes, Klaus,” Dave said. “I do.”

***

Sissy and Vanya had lunch on Wednesdays. Vanya slotted this into her calendar with pleasure. It was better than therapy and training with Five and teaching Allison, Diego, and Klaus how to make the winter drink specials. 

Vanya got sandwiches from a restaurant down the street and they ate at the café on Vanya’s break. Vanya had learned a number of things about Sissy in the three months they’d been friends. She liked London fogs and raspberry and white chocolate scones. She grew up in Texas. She had the cutest laugh and when she was really interested in what Vanya was saying she leaned forward and balance her chin in her palm. She’d gone to college and majored in French for two years before she met her ex-husband and dropped out when they got married. She was 20 when she had Harlan. She was married nine years before she got divorced.

Sissy didn’t go into detail about her ex-husband, though Vanya could figure out some things from the gaps in her stories. He was harsh with her, one of those men who seemed kind at first but was short-tempered and belittling when he didn’t get his way. He didn’t usually listen when she spoke. 

So Vanya did. She listened to her talk about her chickens and the petty vendors at the market. She listened to her updates on Harlan’s progress with piano lessons and the new recipes she was trying in her crock pot. 

And slowly, infinitesimally so, Vanya told Sissy about herself. She started with the easier parts: her siblings, the house, the cold neglect of her father. And graduated to the harder stuff: his lies, her suppressed powers, the book she’d written, Five, the apocalypse. The apocalypse had been the trickiest thing to tell. 

“I didn’t know I had that kind of power,” Vanya said. She remembered the way it possessed her, white hot and uncontrollable. She remembered her siblings, hovering where she’d trapped them, and the anger of all the lost years she’d spent doubting herself, thinking she was less than them, knowing that was what everyone thought. She remembered Leonard, and the sharp sting of his betrayal. She remembered feeling unlovable. 

“What happened?” Sissy asked, putting a hand over Vanya’s. She’d been extraordinarily patient with Vanya’s silences, with her stumbling over words, and abrupt endings to conversations when there was urgent coffee business. 

“They talked me down,” Vanya said. “I don’t—I mean I was in a daze so I don’t know exactly what they said but Allison was looking at me and I knew it had to stop. I hurt her. I almost killed her and she forgave me. I could see it in her eyes,” she said. 

Allison didn’t talk much about that day, no one did. In truth, she wondered how close they’d been to destruction, how close she’d been to destroying everything. 

“And you stopped,” Sissy said. 

“I did,” Vanya said. But she’d been close to failing. She knew from the look on Five’s face when she woke up. There was still power vibrating through her body. There was still so much anger inside her that it gave her a headache. There was still the Academy, destroyed. And Mom and Pogo, dead because of her. 

“It was bad,” Vanya said. “I think you’re underestimating how bad it can get when I don’t control my powers.”

Sissy tilted her head to one side and took a sip of her London fog. “Well, the way I see it is that you can feel guilty and be miserable forever, or you can forgive yourself and try to do some good in the world,” she said. “I thought you picked the latter?”

Vanya laughed, but it sounded choked. “I’m trying to, at least.”

“Well this cinnamon roll is certainly evidence of your good deeds,” Sissy said, taking another bite of the pastry Vanya had set aside for her. It was still warm. “Hey, actually...” Sissy was suddenly serious. “Would you want to come to my place this weekend to meet Harlan? I could make us dinner. I’ve got a spinach lasagna recipe I want to try. And Harlan loves those ginger cookies y’all have been making. I could order some?”

Sissy seemed nervous as she watched Vanya’s expression. It meant a lot, Vanya realized, to be allowed in Sissy’s home. It meant a lot that she trusted Vanya to meet her son. 

“It’s always been hard, but Harlan’s my everything. It’s the two of us against everything else,” Sissy had said once. It reminded her of things Luther had said, about preserving the team, their family. And Klaus always said that it was important to hold on to anyone who could put up with you. 

Vanya had always felt disconnected. She didn’t have a kid to protect like Sissy or Allison. She had a family of strangers who hated her guts for writing about them. And Dad...well even when he was alive he wasn’t one to make her feel wanted. Now, of course, things were getting better but at times Vanya felt a falseness in the things she did. She was playing the part of sister, of friend, of kind, giving, and in control. There was something else underneath. 

“I’d love to meet Harlan,” Vanya said. “That would be amazing.”

Sissy smiled. “Really? Okay, good.”

***

Dave’s cousin was having a birthday party. Dave had invited Klaus, hurriedly, on his way out of the Academy to work. And Klaus, pressed to answer quickly, said yes even though it made him anxious just to think about being around all Dave’s cousin’s friends, tethered to Dave and completely out of place without something to take the edge off. 

He showed up fashionably late. Dave answered when he knocked. 

“Klaus! What are you doing here?” Dave said, launching forward to hug him. He was unsteady on his feet, and when he pulled away Klaus could tell he was drunk.

“You asked me to come, remember?” Klaus said, steadying Dave. 

“Oh yeah,” Dave said, with a puzzled expression. “I’m sorry. Andrew wanted to do shots and I said I should stay sober because my beautiful, gorgeous sober boyfriend was coming over but they kept asking and I didn’t want to let everyone down so I had a couple shots with them.”

“Oh, I see. You’re a lightweight?” Klaus said. Dave pouted. His face was flushed. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get drunk. We can just get out of here if you want. I know it’s hard for you to be around all this,” he said. 

That was when Klaus noticed the bong on the coffee table. His dread was mounting. God he hoped he wouldn’t get a rash or start sweating like he usually did when the cravings hit. 

“It’s fine,” Klaus lied. “I’ll be fine.”

Dave introduced Klaus to his cousin Andrew, Andrew’s girlfriend Rebecca, and a handful of their friends whose names Klaus couldn’t remember because he was staring at Andrew’s bong and the bottle of gin on the table the whole time. 

“Well I’ll say I was pretty surprised when Dave told me he was dating _you_ ,” Andrew said. His inflection on the word “you” was difficult to parse. 

“How so?” Klaus said, icily. Dave was in the kitchen, finding Klaus something non-alcoholic to drink. Klaus crossed his arms over the sweater he was wearing. It was purple and looked like a big doily. He’d done eyeliner to match and was wearing tight black leather pants. Andrew gave him an appraising look. 

“Well, no one knew he was gay until a little while ago, right?” Rebecca cut in. She put a hand on Andrew’s knee and laughed. Smoke curled around her. 

“And then he shows up with a former child star,” Andrew said. 

“Is that what they’re calling me?” Klaus said, raising an eyebrow. 

“And, truthfully, I didn’t think he liked guys who...well, I didn’t think you were his type.”

Klaus wanted to say any number of things. He wanted to say that reactions like Andrew’s were probably why Dave had been in the closet so long. He wanted to ask if it was the super powers, the drug addiction, or the general effeminacy that categorized Klaus as not Dave’s type. 

“Are there any ghosts in here?” One of the friends asked. Klaus pinched the bridge of his nose.

There were eight ghosts. One of them was screaming in Klaus’s ear (though, at least, it was the partially deaf ear) and he was about to ask if Dave had any aspirin, which still seemed sketchy even though he was staring down a bottle of gin. Gin was the best for screaming ghosts. 

“A couple,” he managed. Dave was back with a can of Pepsi, which Klaus pressed to his temple. 

“Are you okay?” Dave asked. “Do you need to lie down?”

Klaus took Dave’s hand and kissed his knuckles. “I’m swell, baby,” he said.

“Shots?” Andrew announced, and his friends all cheered while he poured. Dave started to turn his down but Andrew shoved one in his hands. 

“You don’t mind, do you?” he said, giving Klaus a look that felt like a challenge. “How long have you been sober, anyway?”

“Eight months,” Klaus said, tightly. Dave was already taking his shot, along with the rest of them. It was going to be a long night. 

Sometimes when Klaus fell asleep on the couch at the Academy, he woke up and thought he was somewhere else. Sometimes the ghosts would trick him, their pale forms writhing like he was back under that bridge on Parkway Avenue, shivering, waiting for his dealer to show up. Sometimes he thought he was a teenager again, and when he spotted Five standing in the doorway with a cup of coffee he was surprised, shocked again that his brother had returned. Most of the time, though, Klaus didn’t have a choice to be anything other than painfully aware of wherever he was.

He was in Dave’s cousin’s bathroom, rubbing his boyfriend’s back as he puked his guts out into the toilet. Andrew had brought a glass of water, but Klaus could hear him making fun of Dave in the living room. Klaus thought that this was Andrew’s plan all along, to humiliate Dave and get them both out of the way. 

“I’m sorry,” Dave whimpered. Klaus handed him the water and watched him swish it around in his mouth. 

“It’s okay,” Klaus said. “But you’re too nice to Andrew.”

“I’m not too nice to Andrew. He’s too nice to me. He’s letting me stay here, isn’t he?”

“You’re splitting the rent. He’s not _letting_ you do anything. He still acts like it’s only his place.”

“Shh, he’ll hear you,” Dave said. He was still on his knees, hand on the side of the bathtub to steady himself. The bathroom smelled like vomit and bleach. Dave was as pale and sunken looking as the ghost that had taken up residence in the bathroom mirror. 

“I don’t give a shit. He clearly hates me already,” Klaus said. Dave finished his water and Klaus filled the glass up again. 

“I shouldn’t have asked you to come,” Dave said. 

“I’m fine. You’re the one throwing up because you don’t know how to say no to your asshole cousin.”

Dave rolled his eyes. “No one in my family talks to me anymore. If I have to grovel for my cousin, I’ll grovel,” Dave said. He stumbled on his words. Klaus had to hide his drink a few minutes before they ended up in here. Dave didn’t know when to quit. 

“Screw ‘em,” Klaus said. 

“I’m not like you,” Dave whined. “I can’t just fend for myself.”

“Is that what you call it?” Klaus said. 

“Stop it,” Dave said, pushing at Klaus’s chest unsteadily. “I’m not like you,” he said. 

“Christ, I get it. You’re nice to people and I’m not. At least I kick people out of my life when they treat me badly,” Klaus said. He was chewing on his lip and it had started to bleed. He’d been on edge since he’d gotten here. Surely Dave had noticed. When he was like this he was always meaner than he meant to be. Dave blinked.

“So you dumped that guy who broke your wrist?” 

“Fuck you,” Klaus said. 

“Well, stop pretending you know what it’s like then. You piss everyone off until they leave you and it’s fine because you’re still never alone. You’re one of those beautiful, charming people who attracts people as quickly as you drive them away. I’m not like that. I’ve got like four friends including you. And you’re being an ass, tonight.”

“I’m being an ass?” Klaus said.

Dave sucked in a breath. “I spent so long pretending to be someone else that when everyone found out I was lying, I didn’t have anyone left. You’re just...you’re yourself, Klaus, all the time.”

Klaus softened. “You’re too nice to me,” he said. 

Dave sighed. “There you go again. It’s just like Ian used to say. God, Ian,” Dave leaned back against the bathtub. He was wearing the dog tags, Klaus noticed, and now he held them, pressed them to his lips absently. 

“He left me these,” Dave said, when he caught Klaus looking. “In his note he...” Dave trailed off. His eyes were watery.

“His note?” Klaus said, gently.

“No, no, no, you don’t get to hear about Ian just because I’m drunk,” Dave said, but he was crying now. 

“Dave,” Klaus said. He wondered how many times he’d been drunk, crying in bathrooms. When Klaus was wasted and spilling his guts, Ben was usually the only one there. 

“We were going to enlist together. We were, fuck, I let him down. I—my family’s a military family. They always wanted me to...and Ian, he wanted us to stay together. And I loved him so I promised and then I—“ he was sobbing. He wiped the snot off his nose and heaved. 

“Dave, breathe,” Klaus said. 

He took several gasping breaths. “I wouldn’t go with him. And, God I should have written more. He had so much trouble, just in training and he—I didn’t think he would leave me like that. They found him in his room. He—with his bed sheets he, he,” Dave said. He was shaking violently. “He said he wanted me to have his dog tags in his suicide note.”

“Oh, Dave,” Klaus said.

“That’s why when I met you I thought—“

“You thought you’d be able to see him again,” Klaus said. 

Dave nodded. 

“Is that why you wanted to go out with me?” Klaus said. He had a sinking feeling that that was it, that this was all a lie.

“No, I mean I did hope you would—“

Klaus shuddered. “Are you going to dump me when I reconnect you two?”

“I thought you said you couldn’t—?”

“I’d try for you,” Klaus said, tightly. The bathroom tile was cold and his leg was falling asleep. 

“I love you,” Dave said, chin wobbling. 

“Or, you want something from me,” Klaus said. His voice was breaking. “I’ll be alright, right? I attract people as quickly as I drive them away.”

“Klaus,” Dave pleaded. 

“I’ve got to go,” Klaus said. He didn’t want Dave to see him cry, not now. 

***

Ben and Jill had been trying for weeks. They’d manifested his hands again, and his arms for a moment. She’d seen his face, only for a second, but it was thrilling. They were thrilling in their connection. Ben liked talking to her, even when she couldn’t hear what he was saying and ended up talking over him. He liked the way her face lit up when she talked about things she was passionate about. She loved nature and knitting and books with happy endings and sunsets. Most of the time, they worked without Klaus. It was to see how far they could get on their own. Tomorrow they needed him. Ben had asked that Klaus try manifesting him completely. It was Jill’s birthday, and he was desperate to see her. 

So he wasn’t happy to see Klaus on his bedroom floor with a half empty bottle of vodka. He was unhappy for a lot of reasons, obviously, but some of them were selfish. 

“Hey, Benny,” he said, drawing out the words. “How’s uh, how’re you?” He waved a hand in Ben’s direction. It passed through him and Ben shivered. 

“This is my room,” Ben said. 

Klaus looked around, dazed. “So it is,” he said. 

“You were doing so well, Klaus. What happened?”

“Dave’s going to break up with me,” he said, taking another swig from the bottle. Ben wished he could take it from him. “He’s only using me to get at ghosts anyway.”

“Did he say that, or are you projecting?”

Klaus sighed dramatically. “You’re never on my side,” he said. 

“It’s been eight months, Klaus.”

“I didn’t realize you were counting.”

“We all are,” Ben said. God, he wanted to punch his brother. 

Klaus shrugged. “Well, this is what you expected isn’t it? You, of all people know how good I am at letting everyone down,” he said. 

“I’m not a person. I’m a ghost,” Ben said. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ben gritted his teeth. “Did you remember tomorrow? Jill’s birthday? You were going to mediate.”

“Right, right,” he attempted to stand and careened to one side, landing on the bed. “Sorry, my tolerance has gone to shit. And I took some pills, can’t remember what but it’s so quiet now,” he said, grinning in a way that made Ben’s skin crawl (or at least feel that way.) 

“I asked you to do this for me. I asked you nicely,” Ben said. 

“I will. I’ll set an alarm,” Klaus said. He took another sip from the bottle and closed his eyes. 

“Wake up Five,” Ben said. “He’s usually awake anyway. He’ll get you to dump that out and make sure you wake up.”

“I don’t want Five to know,” Klaus muttered. 

“Tough,” Ben said. 

“I know I always disappoint you. There’s nothing I can do about it,” Klaus said. He wasn’t looking at him. He was looking at the floor, at the cigarette burn on Ben’s rug that Klaus had put there. 

“Bullshit,” Ben said. 

“Bullshit? I know you were waiting for me to fail. Don’t pretend like I don’t know you. I know you, Ben,” Klaus spat. 

Klaus knew the Ben he wanted to know. He didn’t know Ben’s anger, how it was consuming sometimes, how he frightened himself, how he wanted to scream at Klaus with the others. It was so unfair, to be dead.

Klaus only knew Ben’s gentler disappointment. 

“This is about you, and how you never finish what you start,” Ben said. “I’m always here, trying to help you, and the second I need you you go out and get plastered.”

“You don’t understand.”

“I understand plenty,” Ben said, icily. “Go wake up Five.”

***

Klaus clung to the staircase railing and tried to ignore the pounding in his skull. It was hauntingly quiet and whatever he’d taken was making the edges of his vision fuzzy. He considered asking Five to take him to the hospital to get his stomach pumped, if only to feel the clarifying emptiness it brought, and the pain, as if his body had forgotten self-preservation and needed its insides jostled to remember. 

He knocked on Five’s door. Five opened it too quickly and Klaus nearly fell over. He leaned on the doorframe. 

“Klaus,” Five said, brow furrowing with concern. “What happened?”

“Dave’s mad at me and maybe only liked me to get to the ghosts. Or maybe I’m blowing up good things in my life before they get too real,” he said. “Ben’s mad at me too. Can you wake me up at 9 and get rid of this?” Klaus said. He shoved the rest of the vodka into Five’s hands. 

“Sure,” Five said, but Klaus could tell by the color rushing to his brother’s face that he was struggling to stay calm. 

“Please don’t say you’re mad at me,” Klaus said. The noise was muffled, but starting to come back. The reprieve had been brief but devastating. It was work down the drain. “I don’t think I could take it if you were mad at me.”

“I’m not mad. Come lie down,” Five said. 

Klaus curled up on his side, like they were kids again. He wanted to be small and new and clean. Five sat down in his desk chair. He was writing something. 

“I’m sorry,” Klaus said. “I’m interrupting.” He thought of Dad’s office, locked and forbidden with Dad inside, planning something. 

Five turned to look at him. His expression was severe but his eyes betrayed him. “No you’re not. Get some sleep. Everything will be better in the morning,” he said. For a moment he looked much older, the Number Five who had lived a whole other life alone. Five, who’d lived long enough to have some sort of foresight. 

Klaus nodded, and the screaming started up again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m kinda going of the rails with this one. I need some external validation. There will be an ending at some point.


	4. The Von Trapps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some damage control is in order.

When Klaus woke up Diego was there. Klaus blinked. His head hurt and his mouth was dry. 

“Diego?” He croaked. Diego was standing over him with a paper cup of coffee and a an almond croissant, Klaus’s favorite. 

“Five called me,” he said. Five was still in his desk chair, only now his hair was mussed and he had a coffee cup in his hand. 

“You always pick me up when I’m down, don’t you?” Klaus said. His voice sounded scratchy and strange. 

Diego shrugged. “Someone has to,” he said. 

“No they don’t,” Klaus said, propping himself up. There were more pillows under him than he remembered falling asleep on. “That’s my point,” he said. He took the coffee and groaned. “Fuck, Ben wanted me to—what time is it?” 

“Ben has elected to reschedule,” Five said. “He’s...well he’ll talk to you,” he said. 

Klaus paled.

“He’s not mad,” Diego added.

“Well, he was last night,” Klaus said, shifting on the bed. Everything hurt, like the time he cracked a rib on a mission and it stung to breathe for weeks. 

“He’s coming around,” Diego said. 

“How do you know that?” Klaus said. 

Five and Diego shared a look. 

“What?”

“Jill’s been helping manifest him. I didn’t think it was possible, but I saw her do it,” Five said. 

“Great, so he doesn’t even need me,” Klaus said. Somehow, that was worse. 

“Let’s not talk about Ben,” Diego said. He leaned down and pulled a handful of DVDs out of a paper bag Klaus hadn’t noticed was there. “I got us some movies. We’re going to have a day in. Allison and Vanya are coming by after work. Luther’s picking up donuts.”

“A day in?” Klaus said. 

Five cleared his throat. “We thought you might need it.”

“I got face masks too,” Diego said. “I didn’t know what shit to buy, though.” He pulled some more things out of the bag: sheet face masks in a little packet, a copy of Vogue, a box of Milk Duds, nail polish, a bag of pretzels, a scented candle.

“You’re crazy,” Klaus said. He turned to Five. “Don’t you have class?”

“They don’t give you free absences for no reason,” he said, avoiding eye contact.

“He told me what happened,” Diego said. 

Klaus winced. “All of it? The vodka and painkillers and crying?”

“You didn’t tell me anything about painkillers,” Five said, alarmed. 

“Don’t worry, I took them all.”

“I’m glad you came home,” Diego said, quietly. 

“You thought I wouldn’t?” He met his eyes. He could see the strain in them. Diego had seen him through a lot of things: passed out in alleys, blood gushing from his nose—high enough not to feel anything when someone punched him in the face, thin as a rail and nearly frozen to death in the emergency room, high enough to say all sorts of embarrassing shit. 

“Sometimes you run when you think we’ll think less of you,” he said, tightly. 

Klaus laughed. “How much less could you possibly think of me.”

Diego shook his head and then threw the face masks at Klaus. “Do a damn face mask and eat your croissant,” he said. “I’m sick of explaining this.”

“Explaining what?” Klaus said. He opened the face masks and peeled a sticky sheet out of the package. He remembered when they were kids that Diego had always told him to stay behind him when they were on a mission. He’d look at him so seriously, checking his eyes for blown pupils and setting his jaw. Klaus stuck the face mask to his face. It was welcomingly cool. 

“That we give a shit about what happens to you,” he said. 

“Oh,” Klaus said. He took a bite of the croissant so he didn’t have to say anything. 

He felt so stupid. Regret pooled in his stomach and the croissant tasted bland and gummy in his mouth. Last night was coming back in pieces. Five had brought him some water when he’d woken up with nightmares, still drunk and groggy. He’d thought Five was Dave for a moment, and when he realized where he was he felt worse. 

“So are you going to tell us what happened?” Five said. Diego shot him a look but Five brushed it off. “You were at Dave’s, right?”

“Yeah,” Klaus said. “What about it?” He said, stretching languidly on the mass of pillows. 

Five rolled his eyes. “Fine, then scoot over,” he said. Klaus was surprised when Five climbed onto the bed, scooped up the Nintendo DS Allison had gotten him and pressed his shoulder to Klaus’s. He opened up Mario Kart. 

“What are you doing?” Klaus said. 

“You respond well to physical affection,” Five said. He leaned his head on Klaus’s shoulder and Klaus realized his eyes were getting teary. Perhaps Five had a point. 

Diego hesitated, then sat down on the other side of Klaus and leaned his back against the wall. 

“What do you want to watch?” He asked. 

“I don’t—god you’re both too nice to me. I don’t deserve it, not after I show up drunk. And I was doing so well, Ben knew that and goddammit I let him down today I know I did. You don’t have to be so nice to me.”

“What happened?” Five repeated, quietly.

“I fucked up again,” Klaus said. “He...we were at his cousin’s party, the one he’s been living with, and he just lets this guy treat him like shit. And he gets drunk because his cousin asks him and I get pissed. I...look he didn’t tell me there would be alcohol there and I was having a bad night anyway so he’s puking and I’m holding his hair back and I confront him about the fact that he lets his cousin walk all over him and he gets mad at me.” Klaus sucked in a breath. 

“And then I tell him he’s too nice, because he is. Dave’s the sweetest. I thought we were going to be together forever because I think he’s the only one who can tolerate my bullshit for so long. And he said that that’s what Ian said. His best friend, Ian. Who killed himself,” Klaus said 

“W-who, shit Klaus that’s heavy,” Diego said. 

“Yeah, he says all this and I’m an idiot and I ask him if the whole reason he’s with me is to find this guy’s ghost,” Klaus said. 

“Maybe not the most sensitive of responses,” Five said, though he was one to talk.

“I know. But I was so mad and so scared and now I’ve ruined everything because I don’t have an ounce of self-control in my body,” he said. He felt like he was saying too much. Usually he kept his feelings knotted in his chest. It made it easier to get through the day. 

“Did you tell him where you were going?” Diego asked. 

“No,” Klaus said, slowly. “I—I should call him, shouldn’t I? I don’t know where my phone is. It might be dead. Shit, he’s going to worry. Dave always worries,” he said. Before Dave, Klaus never bothered telling anyone where he was going when he left. Usually, at the point of his leaving, whoever invited him had forgotten he was there. 

He scrambled in the blankets. Five shifted and Klaus checked his pockets. His phone was indeed dead. Diego plugged it in. 

“You don’t really believe he’s only into you to talk to some ghost, right?” Five said. He didn’t look up from his game. 

“I-I don’t know. When you say it like that it sounds silly,” Klaus said. It had sounded so devastating and real last night. 

“That’s my point,” Five said, glancing up at him. “You’re not always rational when it comes to matters relating to yourself.”

Klaus’s head was pounding, a combination of his hangover and the ghosts that accumulated around his brothers. 

“Can you repeat that? Maybe with smaller words? It’s loud in here,” he said. 

“Loud?” Diego started. “Oh...” 

“You’re paranoid and have low self-esteem,” Five said. 

“Don’t we all, Fivey?” 

“Maybe in this family,” Diego muttered. 

Five sighed. “I need more coffee to have this conversation,” he said, then teleported out of the room. 

Klaus groaned and lay back on the bed. “How come he’s right all the time?”

“He’s our big brother,” Diego said. 

Klaus rolled his eyes. “I guess so,” he said. 

Diego flipped through the stack of DVDs. They sat in silence for a moment, and Klaus was about to excuse himself to avoid further awkwardness. He wanted to peel off the face mask and splash some water on his face. His eyes still felt itchy and swollen, and he was sure he looked as bad as he felt. 

“Hey,” Diego said. “You know I’m—“

“Disappointed?”

“Stop putting words in my mouth,” he said, face flushing. 

“Sorry,” Klaus said. 

“When we opened the shop...when Vanya brought us all together, I didn’t think it would last,” Diego said. “I thought we’d fight like we always do and it would all fall apart. But it hasn’t. The café has brought us together. And you—“ He hesitated. “You’re like a different person. You’re...I’m so proud of you, Klaus. We don’t tell you that enough.”

“Not now,” Klaus said. He didn’t want to look at him. 

“Yes, now,” Diego said, his voice bordering on stern. “You’ve been an addict since we were kids. It’s understandable to have some setbacks.”

Klaus scoffed. “Where was this lenient attitude a few years ago?”

Diego sighed. “Fine, yeah. I deserve that.”

Klaus looked over at his brother, who was trying. 

“After awhile it hurt too much to watch you do the things you kept doing to yourself. I’m sorry,” he said. 

“ _I’m_ sorry,” Klaus said. Diego’s explanation differed from the one Klaus had in his head, that Diego had simply decided Klaus wasn’t worth the trouble anymore. 

“Let’s just watch a movie,” Diego said. He held up a copy of _The Sound of Music._ “What do you think?”

Klaus laughed. “You really want to commit to a three hour movie?”

Diego frowned. “It’s a good movie.”

Klaus was about to say something about how it was funny for them to be so attached to it, given that there was nothing quaint or unusual about a set of seven siblings dressed in matching outfits and trained to perform. That was their childhood. Instead, he shrugged. 

“Fine, put it on,” he said. When his phone turned back on he’d deal with the messages from Dave, assuming there were any. Klaus pushed down the growing hollow feeling in his chest. It was the shame of failure, instilled in him from every word and action of his father, that he’d spent his whole life trying to mute. The shame was louder than the ghosts sometimes. It rang in his ears. 

Five blinked back into the room as the opening credits were rolling. “Christ, Diego. the Von Trapps? We’re the goddamn Von Trapps,” he said. 

Klaus burst out laughing, so hard he nearly choked on his own spit. Five and Diego were arguing halfheartedly. Diego made popcorn and put the big bowl of it nearest Klaus. Luther showed up twenty minutes into the movie and ensured that Klaus had first pick of donuts. The others came later, with hugs and smiles and not an ounce of the judgement he anticipated. And Klaus felt lighter. 

***

Harlan Cooper sat crosslegged on the floor, running his fingers over the soft carpet. He looked up at Vanya as she played her violin, seemingly transfixed. 

She’d thought bringing the violin would be a good idea, to break the ice and give her something to do with her hands other than wipe her sweaty palms against her pant legs and fidget. And Sissy had said that Harlan liked music. 

Sissy was sitting on the couch with a glass of wine in hand. Vanya felt her eyes on her too, her focus almost as intent as Harlan’s. Vanya was playing Beethoven’s Romance no. 2 in F major op. 50. She liked the way the notes slid together, climbing gracefully higher before dipping and rising again. Even without an orchestra behind her, the piece could demand the attention of any room. Vanya liked playing alone better anyway, like the music was a singular expression, in this case (by the piece’s very name) of love. 

“That was beautiful,” Sissy said, when Vanya was finished. 

“Well, Harlan played something for me. I had to play something for him too,” she said. Sissy smiled. Once Harlan had warmed up to Vanya he’d played “Mary Had a Little Lamb” on the keyboard he used for piano lessons. Sissy said she was saving up for a decent upright piano. Vanya was going to offer to buy her one, but they hadn’t exactly broached the subject of Vanya’s sizable inheritance and she didn’t want to overstep. 

Vanya had arrived at Sissy’s place at sunset. It was a little house at the edge of the city, with a big backyard for the chicken coop and a few fruit trees to make jam when the season was right. She’d been left the place when her father died, shortly before her divorce. Vanya left the café early to drive out. 

Sissy showed her the chickens in the dying light. They ran around the yard until she ushered them in their coop for the night, each bird settled in its own designated spot. 

“I didn’t know a thing about raising chickens when I started. Or running my own business, for that matter,” she said. “I’m thinking of starting a vegetable garden in the spring.”

Sissy tied her hair up in a ponytail and put her hands on her hips. “If I got any good at growing things, I could sell more at the market: jams, zucchinis, tomatoes...” she trailed off. 

“That sounds great,” Vanya said. She was distracted by how pretty Sissy’s outline looked against the darkening sky. 

Sissy smiled. “I could put a good word in with the board if you want to get a booth on Saturdays. The only other coffee shop with a spot burns their coffee and sells the blandest scones. You’d be a welcome change. And I’m on the board’s good side now.”

“You say that like you used to be on their bad side,” Vanya said. She’d considered expanding to the market. It’d be good advertising and they could make a lot of extra money. It would require four people working Saturday mornings, though, and she wasn’t sure she could get that consistently without hiring someone new. 

Sissy rolled her eyes. “I can’t give away all my secrets,” she said. 

Sissy pulled the lasagna out of the oven when the cheese on top was bubbling, and dished out slices to the three of them, after she poured more wine. It was good lasagna, and Sissy was even more charming after a couple of glasses of wine. Vanya cleared the table when they were done and Sissy got out the ginger cookies and some coffee while Harlan showed Vanya their collection of records. 

“He likes the ones with the bright colors,” she called from the kitchen as Harlan handed Vanya a copy of Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. 

He ate three of the ginger cookies while Vanya and Sissy sipped their coffee. Then it was getting late so Sissy made sure Harlan brushed his teeth and got him in his pajamas and in bed. 

They sat on the couch in the lamplight and whispered. 

“You were so good with him,” Sissy said. She had her legs curled up on the couch, an arm draped over the back of it. 

Vanya shrugged. “I didn’t think I would be. I’ve never been around kids for very long. I’ve only met my niece Claire a handful of times,” she said. 

“I guarantee he’s going to be fixated on the violin for weeks now,” she said. 

Vanya laughed. “Well, you’re welcome, I guess. I’ve got some books I could bring him. My dad had all those photo collections of violins being made. Sometimes I thought he was more interested in the instrument than the music.”

It would be typical of Reginald Hargreeves, who was also more interested in superpowers than the kids who possessed them. 

“Well, I like the music,” Sissy said. They were moving closer. Vanya felt warm, from the coffee or wine or staring at Sissy for too long. 

Vanya’s phone buzzed. She glanced down to check it, instinctually. 

“Everything okay?” Sissy asked, as Vanya responded to Five’s text. 

“Yeah,” she said. “It’s just Five letting me know that Klaus is home safe.” Vanya bit her lip. “Klaus relapsed last week. He was sober almost a year, so we’re all keeping an extra eye out for him. I think he hates it but also appreciates it,” she said. 

Sissy nodded. “Send him my best, then. And Five too. He’s the one in school, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Vanya said. “I was going to ask you, actually. He’s got this poetry showcase coming up for one of his classes. He’s reading one of his poems. To be honest, he hasn’t shown me any of his work. So I’m curious. Anyway, we’re all going if you want to join me.”

Sissy grinned. “The time-traveling poet, how intriguing,” she said. “And you two were close growing up?” 

Vanya looked at the floor. “Yeah, I guess. The others didn’t talk to me much, Dad’s rules. But Five’s always been a rule breaker.”

She remembered Five showing up in her room before dinner, startling her with a smooth spatial jump to sit in her tiny windowsill. She usually had her window open. 

“Mom’s making spaghetti,” he said, on one such occasion. “She let Diego help and I warned him not to burn the garlic bread.”

His entrances were usually like that. He came reporting information. 

“You know, people usually knock,” she said. 

He raised his eyebrows. She liked to push her luck with him, with sarcasm she practiced uneasily. 

“There’s nothing usual about us,” he said. “That’s why we’re here.”

“Well, I’m not like you. I’m ordinary,” Vanya said. The word tasted sour in her mouth. It still did. 

He shrugged. “At least you’re nice to talk to. I can’t say the same about Luther most of the time,” he said. He saluted her and then blinked out of the room. 

“Thanks for coming, tonight,” Sissy said. They were closer, still. Vanya’s breath caught in her throat. 

“Of course,” she said. “You’re my friend,” she said. 

“Is that all I am?” Sissy said. It was almost a whisper. 

“No,” Vanya said. And then they were kissing, gently, intently, and warmth was spreading through Vanya’s arms. She could almost feel her power. There was music in her head when Sissy kissed her. 

And then there was a knock on the door. Sissy broke away first. Her face was flushed. “Stay right where you are,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

Vanya didn’t do what she was told. She got up, and wandered near enough to hear who was at the door. 

“What are you doing here, Carl?” Sissy said. She had her arms crossed, posture guarded. 

“Harlan left his backpack in my car.”

“It’s 10 p.m. on a Saturday. This couldn’t have waited until morning?” she said. 

“I was in the neighborhood,” he said, syllables drawn out lazily. “Let me in, why don’t you?”

“I’ve got company,” she said, quieter than before. 

“Company?” Carl said. He pushed past her and suddenly Vanya was staring at Sissy’s ex-husband. 

He looked her up and down. “Evening,” he said. 

“Carl, this is my friend Vanya Hargreeves,” Sissy said, meekly. Her hand was on the door frame. 

“Nice to meet you,” Vanya said. 

“Uh huh,” he said. His face was red and he swayed slightly, jacket and shirt rumpled. Vanya suspected he was drunk. He turned to Sissy. “Come on, Sis. You’re not too ugly for men just yet. I didn’t realize you were whoring around with just anyone,” he said. 

“Get out Carl. You’re drunk.”

“I had one beer. My buddy’s out in the car. He’ll get a real kick out of this.”

“Get out,” Sissy repeated. 

Carl didn’t move. “Hargreeves, eh? I’ve heard of you. You’re part of that family of freak kids,” he said. 

“Carl,” Sissy warned, but her voice shook. 

“I don’t know what you’re so mad about. I’m only telling it like I see it,” he said. He turned to Vanya. “What are you looking at?”

“She told you to get out,” Vanya said. She could feel the anger building up in her, thinking of all the time Sissy had wasted with this miserable man. She could see how Sissy shrunk around him, muting herself to stay safe, to protect Harlan. The dishes started to rattle in the cabinets. 

“What are you—?” 

“Get out,” Vanya said. The door whipped open wider and Sissy jumped out of the way. 

“Fucking hell, you’re crazy,” Carl said, but he was moving quickly. Vanya exhaled and the door slammed behind him. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. Sissy was looking at her with wide eyes. 

“What for?” she said, breathlessly. 

***

Klaus left the house without a coat. It would be easier to face him, he thought, if he had the cold to distract himself. He knew he looked a mess. A nervous rash had formed on his neck. He was flushed from the cold and still hungover, with bags under his eyes and teeth that were starting to chatter by the time he got to Dave’s cousin’s door. He prayed to God that Andrew wouldn’t answer. 

The door swung open. Klaus stuffed his hands in his pant pockets. “Klaus, you’re freezing,” Dave said. He looked surprised to see him, though not angry, as Klaus had anticipated he’d be. His hair was a mess and he looked just about as hungover and anxious as Klaus was. 

“Hi,” Klaus said. It was all he could think to say. He shivered. 

“Come in,” Dave said. 

The living room was a disaster. Abandoned drinks were strewn about and Andrew’s bong had tipped over, spilling ash and bong water all over the coffee table. There was a half full trash bag on the floor. 

“Andrew and his girlfriend went out for brunch and I haven’t seen them since. I’m cleaning up,” he said, eyes narrowed like he thought the admission would start another fight. 

“Do you want help?” Klaus asked. Dave just rolled his eyes. 

“Do you want to talk about last night?”

“That’s why I’m here, to apologize,” Klaus said. 

“I thought you were the one mad at me,” Dave said. He ran a hand through his hair. 

“I overreacted, I think. I was surprised.”

“I didn’t plan on telling you about Ian anytime soon. You just sounded like him and it came out.”

“I know,” Klaus said. 

“The thought crossed my mind to ask you about his ghost. I’m not a saint, baby. But I promise it’s not the reason I wanted to go out. I mean, you asked me. I didn’t even think you’d be interested in someone like me. I’d never make you talk to Ian, okay? I’m still pretty messed up about his death, but I’m working on it. I nearly dropped out of school when he died. It was bad. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I thought it was my fault for not joining the army like he asked. I knew he felt alone. He only joined because he’s in a military family and I—see this is why I didn’t want to talk about it, Klaus,” he said. His breath was coming in short bursts. 

“We don’t have to,” Klaus said. He remembered just after Ben died, how hard it had been to talk about how it had happened, and how hard it had been to get the images out of his head. 

“I shouldn’t have gotten drunk,” Dave said. Klaus winced, instinctively. He scratched at the rash on his neck. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Dave said. He picked up the trash bag and put a few stray plastic cups in it. 

“I relapsed last night,” Klaus said. “I thought I should tell you.”

“Oh, Klaus,” Dave said. 

“That seems to be the general consensus, yes,” he said, weakly. 

Dave dropped the trash bag and crossed the room. He wrapped Klaus up in his arms without hesitation. Klaus leaned his head in the crook of Dave’s neck. 

“I’m sorry,” Dave said. 

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know. I’m just sorry it happened.”

“Me too. I still haven’t talked to Ben. I’m kind of afraid he’s going to kill me.”

“Ben’s a friendly ghost,” Dave said.

“Yeah,” Klaus choked. “Well, he’s put up with me for this long.”

“I should have told you sooner, about Ian,” Dave said. 

“It’s okay.”

“I love you. I’m not going to leave you.”

“I know,” Klaus repeated, but his voice was weaker. “I’m sorry about what I said. All the stuff about your cousin. I mean it’s true that I hate his guts and think he’s taking advantage of you, but I was being an insensitive jerk about it. I didn’t know what I was talking about.”

Dave laughed, bitterly. “I have a bad habit of making excuses for people who treat me badly.”

“I’m glad you never met my dad,” Klaus said. 

Dave squeezed him tighter. “Do you want to get dinner? I’ll buy you egg rolls at that place you like. We can get the table by the window.”

“The owner read the comics. I get a celebrity discount,” Klaus muttered into Dave’s shoulder. 

“That sounds like a yes,” Dave said. 

Dave insisted that Klaus borrow a coat, a black, puffy thing that he zipped up for him. He also put mittens on Klaus’s hands. 

“Do you want earmuffs? They might help with ghosts.”

“I doubt it, but okay,” Klaus said. Dave put earmuffs over Klaus’s ears. 

“I’ve never worn this much outerwear in my life,” Klaus said. 

“I’m genuinely surprised you haven’t frozen to death,” Dave said, seriously. 

“I think my powers make me harder to kill. I have no concrete evidence to support that, but by most accounts I should be dead by now,” he said. 

Dave cupped Klaus’s face in his hands. His voice was muffled with the earmuffs. 

“Well, I’m very glad you’re not.”

***

“What’s your point?” Five said. He coughed. It was a mildly concerning cough, with a bit of phlegm. 

“When was the last time you ate something other than Swedish Fish and cold coffee?” Diego said. 

Ben was in the corner. He’d been lurking around Five since his finals started. Five was doing that thing where he stopped acting like a person and started acting like a robot, and Ben wanted to keep an eye on him. 

“You don’t eat coffee,” he countered, coughing again. 

“Five, you look bad,” Diego said. He was leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed. 

“And?” Five said. A cough shook his whole body, this time. 

“Ben,” Diego announced, looking around at all the empty spaces where Ben wasn’t. “Back me up, here?”

“Ben’s not here,” Five scoffed. 

“Wanna bet?” Diego said. 

“Don’t use me to gamble,” Ben said. 

“I’m going to make you some soup,” Diego said. He turned and left. 

“You’re overworking yourself,” Ben said. Five, who couldn’t hear him, put his head in his hands and sighed. “I bet you’d listen to me if you could see me. I’ve got dead brother privilege.”

“You can’t keep playing the dead brother card, it’ll lose its charm,” Klaus said. He was standing in the doorway. 

“So Ben is here?” Five said. He ate another Swedish Fish and washed it down with a sip of cold coffee. 

“Yeah and you’ve got to stop eating those. You’re going to throw up,” Ben said. 

Klaus repeated Ben’s words, as if on instinct.

Five rolled his eyes. “Fine, okay.” He coughed. 

“That sounds like a bad one,” Klaus said. “Diego’s three coughs away from prescribing bed rest.”

“Whatever,” Five said. “I thought you were staying at Dave’s tonight?” 

Klaus glanced over at Ben, nervously. “He had an, uh, work thing come up,” he said. “Weren’t you going to study with June?”

Five blanched. “I canceled,” he said. 

“Soup’s on,” Diego called down the hallway. Five got up too quickly and hurried out of the room. 

“Sorry, Ben,” he called behind him. 

Ben stuck his hands in his pockets. “Hey,” he said, as Klaus looked him over. 

“I haven’t seen you in awhile. Are you avoiding me?” He said, weakly. 

“No,” Ben said. Though, in fairness, he wasn’t sure what he was doing. He wasn’t entirely past the ball of anger that had swelled in him the night before Jill’s birthday. It was an anger that scared him, but was built on years of following Klaus’s self-destruction, of the hopelessness that bred. He still wasn’t sure what to say to his brother. “I was keeping an eye on Five,” he said. 

Klaus nodded. “Right, uh...I’m sorry. About last week I mean. I never got to talk to you about it. How was Jill’s birthday? I know I ruined—“

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Ben interrupted. “I was just disappointed, and being melodramatic.”

“Disappointed in me?” Klaus said. He seemed to shrink at Ben’s words. 

“Not in you,” he said. “In the situation.”

Klaus shrugged. “I wouldn’t blame you if you were disappointed.”

Ben scoffed. “What? Do you want me to be?”

“Maybe!” Klaus said. He ran a hand through his hair aggressively. “I think maybe you should yell at me again. I think I deserve that at least.”

“It’s not like I like yelling at you, Klaus,” Ben said. Maybe it would feel cathartic, but it was more likely to just make him feel like shit. 

“I prefer it to you not talking to me,” Klaus said. Ben met his eyes. They were big and slightly damp. “Sorry,” he choked. “I didn’t mean to get so worked up, but things have been kind of shit lately, without you.”

“Klaus—“

“I’m really sorry, Ben.”

“It’s okay,” Ben said, softly. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

Klaus laughed. It came out broken and startling. Ben had seen his brother cry plenty of times, after Dad left the room, at Ben’s funeral, in stiff rehab beds and hospital rooms and dirty alleys. Ordinarily, he pretended not to notice when Klaus cried. It seemed the thing to do to keep both of them from getting too embarrassed, and Ben always felt guilty that Klaus hardly had a moment alone. There was always someone spectral watching him, prying open his most vulnerable moments. Often, it was Ben, so he got uncomfortable when Klaus cried. 

“I keep letting you down,” Klaus said. “It’s all I do.”

“That’s kind of dramatic, don’t you think?” Ben said. He was trying to get him to stop looking at him like the world was ending again. 

Klaus shook his head. “I mean it, Ben. I thought I might relapse, and you were the person whose reaction I was most worried about,” he said. He itched his neck. It must’ve been one of his nervous rashes. He’d gotten a lot more of those since he’d been sober. “It’s not like this is easy for me. I haven’t been sober for more than a week since I was a teenager before now.”

“I know,” Ben said. He was there. “Why were you worried about me?”

“Because you’re always giving me shit,” Klaus said. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “You were there the whole time, when I was awful to be around.”

“I’m awful too,” Ben said. “All I do is nag you and complain. I’m a burden.”

Klaus shook his head. “That’s not how I see you. I always thought _I_ was the burden,” he said. 

Ben crossed his arms. “You’re my brother. You’re not a burden.”

Klaus put his face in his hands. “God, Ben. I miss you. I know you’ve got this whole new life for yourself with Jill and the others. And your presence is getting stronger. I know that. She’s helping and the others are finding ways to talk to you and it’s so good, Ben.”

“Thanks,” he muttered. 

“But I miss having you there, always. I took it for granted.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Klaus,” Ben said. He stared at the floor. “And I’m not mad at you.”

Five was back, holding a bowl of chicken soup in one hand. “Diego wants me to tell you that there’s soup left if you want some, Klaus. And that I’ve decided to take the rest of the night off, Ben.”

“Good,” Ben said. 

“Ben says good. I agree,” Klaus said. 

Five nodded. “So can you guys, uh, get out of my room?”

Ben rolled his eyes. Klaus grinned. 

“Alright, we’ll take our little heart to heart somewhere else,” Klaus said. He winked, like when they were kids and Ben dared him to pull pranks on the others. “What do you say, Ben?”

Ben smiled. “Alright.”

***

Klaus went back to work. Five, at Vanya’s insistence, had dropped all his shifts for finals and two weeks after. Vanya had insisted he take a legitimate break. His cough had progressed into a genuine cold and he’d lost his voice. So Klaus was working more. It was a welcome distraction, and he was thankful that Vanya had kept him off of the register for most of his shifts. He could get in a zone that way: steaming milk, drizzling caramel, filling up gift bags of ground coffee.

The shop had an earthy scent, mixed with the sweetness of scones and muffins and brownies that Diego pulled tray after tray of out of the oven. They’d gotten a lot of catering orders as of late: university conferences, baby showers, business meetings, book clubs. Klaus had taken to eating the rejected pastries in lieu of bringing lunch. Diego always wrinkled his nose when Klaus took a bite of a particularly charred cookie or day old muffin. Klaus just shrugged. He’d subsisted on much worse. 

Café Zero had gotten busier in the last month. A handful of positive Yelp reviews, a small article in the paper’s food section, and Allison’s skilled management of their social media pages had garnered a steady stream of customers at all hours. 

If Klaus kept his head down he could keep up. Sometimes the ghosties gave him migraines and he had to lie down on one of the couches and drink the tea Vanya made for him. Occasionally she sent him home, but usually he stayed still until the pain eased and got back to work. He’d taken to mopping in the evenings too. He liked dragging around the mop bucket, the steady heat of the water, the way the motions got him sweating, pumping his arms until they were sore as the floor was spotless. He usually came home exhausted, which helped with the nightmares and the cravings but didn’t help when he had plans with Dave. 

Sometimes he’d come over anyway and curl up beside Dave on the bed, falling asleep wordlessly, pressing his face to Dave’s shirt. They were growing back into each other. Dave was letting little things spill out now: memories of Ian, complaints about his cousin, frustrations with work, stories about all the people he’d had to leave behind when he came out. And Klaus was learning how to respond without being too insecure or insensitive or selfish. This was a difficult task sometimes, when Dave said things with which he disagreed. 

“I had a crush on the kicker for our school’s football team so I always said yes when my friends wanted to go to games. God, I mean most of the time I was only invited because my dad let me borrow the car to pick everyone up. They could lie and say they were just going with me and the guys, and then meet up with their girlfriends to fool around under the bleachers,” Dave said. 

“I wasn’t aware that was an actual thing that happened,” Klaus said. He was curled into Dave’s side. “I thought that was just in movies.”

Dave laughed. “You would’ve hated my high school,” he said. 

“So, did you fool around with the kicker?”

“Christ, no. He didn’t even know I existed, I’m sure. I just sat and watched the game by myself and stared at him until everyone else wanted a ride home.”

Klaus thought about Dave sitting all alone in the bleachers, shivering in the autumn chill, fists balled up in his pockets, choking back secrets through gritted teeth. 

“I didn’t have very good friends,” Dave said. “I know what you’re going to say. But, they were better than nothing. And when you’re faking everything just to get through the day you’re not exactly in the position to ask for more.”

Dave had said it got better in college. He still wasn’t out, but at a big school it was easier to loosen up his performance of heterosexuality. People could guess, if they were smart. He was just starting to come into himself when Ian died, which set everything back. 

“I thought he was the only person I’d ever love. You know, dumb teenager stuff. And then he was gone and I felt like it was my fault. I think I hid further in the closet to punish myself. I had all these ideas about what I did and didn’t deserve.”

Klaus rested a palm against Dave’s waist. He was always so warm, radiating. It was hard to imagine him not being the person he was now, with his bright smiles and patience, his straightforward expressions of affections and gentle insistence that Klaus open up. 

“You deserve the world,” Klaus whispered into the crook of Dave’s neck. It made him angry that Dave had spent any time in the company of people who used him and forced him to hide. It made him angry that Dave ever thought that was something he deserved. But Klaus supposed he was one to talk. 

Klaus was getting into a pattern. Working, seeing Dave, support group meetings, the occasional lunch with Diego. He was trying harder to stay in a routine. Having a routine helped before, in the beginning. It insured he had a concrete task to replace getting high. 

“Klaus, I need a large hazelnut latte with almond milk, please,” Allison said. She marked the order on a cup and handed it to him. “And make yourself something too because Jill wants to talk to you.”

Klaus glanced up from the latte he was already starting. “Oh, hi Jill,” he said. 

She smiled at him. 

He hadn’t talked to her since he’d canceled on her birthday. He had a feeling Ben had told her about his relapse. It hadn’t really been a secret to anyone.

They sat at a corner table. Klaus had made himself a hot chocolate. He needed the sugar today. 

“I’m sorry I missed your birthday,” Klaus said. It seemed apt to lead with an apology. 

“It’s alright,” Jill said. “We had a good time anyway. We just stayed in. I ordered sushi and we watched a movie,” she said. Ben had told Klaus this, presumably to make him feel better. He said he’d been able to levitate an avocado roll briefly before dropping it in a bowl of soy sauce and splashing it everywhere. Jill had thought it was hilarious. 

“I think Ben was more upset than I’d ever be,” she continued. “Truly, I’m thankful beyond words every time you help me see him. I’d really like to be your friend too, Klaus.”

Klaus looked at her. He’d expected her to insinuate that he’d let her down or that his powers were all he was good for. She sipped her latte and smiled again. “Stop looking at me like that. I swear, you and Ben pull the exact same faces sometimes. It must be a brother thing.”

“How often can you see him without my help?” he asked. 

Jill tilted her head to one side, considering. “When we’re really practicing I can see him clearly for a few minutes. But, we only practice about once a week. It can be really draining if I don’t prepare properly. More recently, though, I’ve been starting to see his outline just naturally. And I’m more aware of where he is when I can’t see him. It’s usually at times when I feel most connected to Ben,” she said. She adjusted her glasses and blushed. “That’s why I’m here, uh...”

“What is it?” Klaus said, he grinned in spite of himself. 

“My other friends have been kind of weird about my friendship with Ben. I mean, I get it. Most of the time it just looks like I’m talking to myself. And even though people know about you and the Umbrella Academy, they don’t want to think about ghosts being all around us,” she said. 

Klaus swallowed, thickly. There were figures collecting around her as she spoke, but they were oddly quiet. 

“No one’s been outwardly mean. They’re just concerned, I guess. It’s just nice to be around you and your siblings, because Ben is just another person to you, even if there are limitations when it comes to being with him,” she said. “It’s hard to make other people understand that.”

“I get it,” Klaus said. He was well acquainted with not being believed. 

Jill sucked in a breath. “I’ve been talking to Vanya. She wants to start a Café Zero booth at the Saturday market, but she needs more staff to run it. She offered me a job. I’ll work Saturdays and pick up more shifts as you guys expand. She didn’t want to tell anyone before everything was finalized, but I accepted the job officially this morning.”

“That’s amazing,” Klaus said. 

“I’m hoping Ben will feel the same way,” she said. “I’m going to tell him tonight and, uh, I’m going to ask him out...on a date.”

Klaus’s brows furrowed. “Are y’all not dating already?” 

“No,” she sputtered. “Did he tell you we were?”

“No. I just know he’s obsessed with you,” Klaus said. If Ben was here he’d probably kick Klaus. 

“You’re just trying to be encouraging,” Jill said. 

“I’m not,” Klaus protested. “I’m dead serious, no pun intended.” 

Jill grinned. “Okay then. That’s good to know. I didn’t really think there would be a point in my life where I’d have a ghost boyfriend, but that reality seems to be rapidly approaching.”

Klaus laughed. “I’ve learned to expect the unexpected in this family.”

***

“Have you eaten?” Allison said. “It’s late.” 

Vanya ran her hand through her hair. “Not yet, bills,” she said. 

Allison crossed her arms and rolled her eyes at her sister. “I’m getting us burritos. Stay where you are,” she said. 

“I’m not hungry, Ali—“

“Shush, I have a proposition for you,” she said. “So give me your burrito order.”

By the time Allison came back with the burritos and pushed down Vanya’s laptop screen, Vanya actually was hungry.

“Do you always stay this late?” Allison said. 

Vanya shrugged. “There’s a lot of work to do.”

Allison frowned. “You know we’re always here to help,” she said. 

“I know,” Vanya said. She took a bite of her burrito. “I’m fine. What’s your proposition?”

Allison leaned her elbows on the table. “I think we should throw Five a surprise party, for the end of his first year.”

“That’s months away,” Vanya said. 

“I was thinking after his showcase, to really surprise him. We could do it here,” she said. 

Vanya grinned. “Sure, that sounds like fun.” She imagined surprising Five. He’d taken to blushing when he was flustered, like when they were kids, and he’d gotten less jumpy and paranoid so she wasn’t worried about him reacting violently accidentally. And he’d worked so hard this year. He deserved something nice. 

“I’ll arrange everything. I’ve gotten in touch with some of his college friends,” Allison said. 

Vanya raised an eyebrow. “How’d you manage that?” 

Allison winked. “I have my ways. I thought we could invite them. Klaus could bring Dave. Jill and Ben, Diego and that new girl he’s seeing whose name escapes me, Luther obviously—I can bring Ray, I’ve been wanting everyone to meet him. And you can invite Sissy,” she said. 

“Okay,” Vanya said. She could feel her face warming. “I’ve already talked to her about coming to the showcase with me.”

“Great,” Allison said. “How is Sissy?”

Vanya could feel her face grow redder under her sister’s scrutiny. 

“We kissed last night,” Vanya said. 

“And how do we feel about that?” Allison said. She looked delighted, but kept her voice neutrally even. 

“Good,” she squeaked. “Really good, yeah.” She proceeded to tell Allison the whole story. 

“Holy shit, you slammed the door and everything?”

“I felt bad after,” Vanya said. Sissy assured her that everything was okay, but Vanya still had nightmares when she went to bed. She dreamt she couldn’t control herself again, and Sissy’s door rattled off its hinges. 

“I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore,” Vanya said, nearly whispering. “After what I did to you I didn’t know if I could live with myself.”

That night, even though she’d wanted Carl to leave, knew he was a dangerous, bigoted, asshole, it was devastating to lose her composure. She’d worked so hard to hone her powers, to breathe deeply and quell the anger that bubbled up inside her. She’d worked so hard to be good, and it still seemed out of reach. 

“Vanya,” Allison said. She put her hand over Vanya’s, which was shaking. “You know you don’t have to prove anything to anyone, right? Nothing that happened before was your fault. I was never angry at you, just at Dad, and everything that got us where we were. You’re not bad, Vanya. Tell me you know that,” she said. 

Vanya looked up at her. Her eyes were damp and determined. 

“Tell me,” she repeated. 

“I know,” Vanya lied. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me, y’all! I’m thinking one maybe two chapters to go?


End file.
